Number One Fan
by Neon Daisies
Summary: She hadn’t meant for it to actually BECOME anything, but it's in the midst of trying to figure that out what to DO with the things she’s created that Pepper has what is potentially her worst idea ever: just about anything can be posted on the internet.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** if I owned Iron Man or anyone associated with it, I'd probably still write fanfic, but then it wouldn't be fanfic. It'd be canon. Lucky for the Iron Man 'verse I'm on the outside looking in. Credit Stan Lee, Universal, Marvel, and whoever else for intellectual property. Credit Jon Favreau, Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, et al for bringing them to life.

**Author's Note:** see the end. I don't want to give the game away. Just know that there's a good dose of tongue in cheek in here, and a lot of it is pointing right back to 4persephone and I.

* * *

It had started as a furtive, slightly guilty way for Pepper to keep her mind occupied on something SAFE while Tony was away getting shot at. Something that contained the cadence of the business day without necessitating her to actually care about schedules, appointments, or expectations. It was – should have been – a largely harmless way of keeping her hands busy and her concerns out in the open where she could keep an eye on them. The enemy you know, and all that, after all.

She had no formal training, nothing besides personal history to fall back on, combined with a highly unmanageable imagination that expressed itself in those silent hours when she was waiting for Jarvis to report back the results of Tony's latest scramble with the "bad guys." What she had was a laptop, and a surplus of worry and adrenaline that wouldn't let her sleep. And the aforementioned overactive imagination, of course.

She hadn't meant for it to actually BECOME anything, and certainly she hadn't meant for it to become a habit. But before she knew it, Pepper had a routine for keeping herself sane while her boss was trying to get himself blown to bits. It involved her, and her laptop, and occasionally when the writing was going very badly, a game or twenty of Minesweeper.

In her sane, rational, balanced moments, Pepper could look at the file folder on her desktop – labeled "Accounting Division Minutes" to keep Tony's nose out of it – and tell herself that what she was doing was JUST on this side of wrong, and probably even some sort of invasion of privacy issue because it wasn't as if she were ONLY writing stories. Anyone could write stories, and from a glance at the New York Times bestselling lists, "anyone" usually did. No, what she was doing was potentially far more depraved than that and certainly far more embarrassing.

She was writing fanfiction. About her boss, for god's sake. And her "stories" often contained the sort of day to day he said/she said that they had both actually said for realsies…but only that. There was nothing more…titillating to it than why hadn't she admitted that she needed him to take care of himself, or she'd miss him – and had missed him – while he was gone? Or, very occasionally, what she thought was a very well deserved – on her part, not necessarily his – kiss. But her vignettes still more often fell to the side of fantasy than fangirl in some weird amalgamation of fantastic non-fiction. Fiction that could have been true if Tony ever pushed a little harder or she ever resisted a fraction less.

In the beginning, before she'd started getting in over her head, the exercises had helped to relieve the stress. Every time Tony disappeared over the horizon, she'd pull up a blank Word document and start tapping away furiously, usually without having to consider where to start.

Where she should start was always the same: it's everything that's being screamed but not heard in those silent moments before Tony lowers the visor on the Ironman suit and leaves her behind. It's an outlet that allows her to say all the things she knows better than to say out loud, not just to Tony but to ANYONE. All the things she should've said have become less of a hypothetical since they're now written down, and more of a practical primer of what she might consider doing if she ever manages to set aside fear and professionalism in order to be selfish. No matter if it's dressing Tony down for being such an idiot, or confessing that she's slowly falling in love with said idiot, she's SAID it, and there's nothing that can erase the reality of that even though no one has heard her say anything.

But what is helpful in the moment is a detriment in the long term. Now that she's finally taken some sort of sideways step forward and to the side by pouring herself into these stories, she's becoming a little consumed by them. She starts going home closer to five o'clock, not necessarily because her workload has lightened so much or because Tony drives her from the house, but because she obsessively goes over each and every one of them, polishing every word and phrase until each story has the kind of taut neatness characteristic of bedsheets in the military. The stories are coherent to the point where a metaphorical quarter could be bounced off them.

Perfect, and polished, and doing absolutely nothing. They mock her. All her action has led to nothing and nowhere. Deleting them doesn't help. She's tried it, and ended up restoring them an hour later. But she doesn't know what else to DO with them. Further action on her part notwithstanding, she still can't bring herself to stop and the stories keep accumulating, each titled not with words, but with dates. Chronological evidence that her boss is driving her INSANE.

It's in the midst of trying to figure that out what to DO with the things she's created that Pepper has what is potentially her worst idea ever: just about anything can be posted on the internet. It allows her the option of confession without actually admitting anything to anyone. Completely personal anonymity.

Still. She wavers, making half-hearted searches on Google for the appropriate site to…disrobe, so to speak.

There's a heck of a lot of sites. When she simply types in "Ironman," 7,790,000 site results come back. A good few of them are ones she's already perused for PR purposes. A measly 150,000 come back once she works up the audacity – during which time she cleaned her bathroom and kitchen, including all surfaces, even the floors – to add the word "fiction" to the end of her search. There's a healthy part of her that doesn't even want to know what kind of fantasies people have woven about her boss. She's heard more than enough already, thank you very much. Adding herself into that number is just about enough to make her melt into a puddle of shame, but the urge to do SOMETHING that will let her pass a night without endless revisions overcomes all other reservations.

She starts clicking links.

She finds the site she wants on the third page. Not too big – or at least, not too many entries. But, still enough to tell her that anything she posts should be buried in a day or two. Her hand trembles a little as she navigates over to the login button, making the cursor jump around a little. Still, after several deep breaths and a break to make a fresh pot of coffee, she actually hits the button and processes the request for a username and password.

_Well, might as well be hung for the sheep as a lamb._ With that encouraging thought, Pepper Potts signs up for the site "StarkNet" with the semi-ironic handle of "number1fan."

"Oh god," she moans to herself as she opens up Word and the first chronologically ordered document, and starts combing through it with a fine tooth comb for anything that might mention her dearly depraved's glowing blue bullseye or anything specific about what happened in Afghanistan. Or anything about Stark Industries for that matter.

Just because she's risking every ounce of pride she has was no reason to risk anything else, like her job or Tony's life.

* * *

Tony's bored. It's a feeling he's unaccustomed to, and therefore displeased with. Normally, he had plenty of things with which to fill up his day – between being CEO, mad inventor, and superhero, he didn't have a whole lot of time set aside for sitting around on his hands waiting for something to do. However, in the last couple of months Pepper had been scooting out of the house earlier and earlier, though always well within the technical terms of a work day. It makes him uneasy. It makes him suspicious that Pepper was getting a life; suspicious enough that he's checked in on her a couple of times through the chip in her cell phone. She always goes straight home, only stopping to maybe get groceries or her own dry cleaning. And the few times he's calls with a completely spur of the moment request, she's dropped everything to comply.

Though, the way she usually shows up on his doorstep – a little flushed and avoiding his eyes – only makes him MORE suspicious.

Suspicious and alone at night with nothing to do.

It's frustrating as hell.

Tonight for example. It's a perfectly good Friday night and he's shut in like a recluse. There's no parties going on that have caught his attention – or at least, Pepper hasn't brought anything to his attention. ('If she wanted to ensure uninterrupted PERSONAL time, she'd make sure I was distracted, wouldn't she?') The suit was about as upgraded and polished and buff as it could be, there were only so many times he could take the cars apart and he didn't have everything he needed to fix the Cobra… With a heavy sigh and a feeling of having nothing else to do, Tony spins around in his chair and pulls up an internet browser in order to find SOMETHING to entertain himself.

A few games of Bejeweled would even be entertaining at this point.

His non work (read also as "fun") email account is all but barren. A few spam posts of inappropriate jokes...a mailing list on the Farsi language (he was attempting to retain at least a portion of the lessons he'd been give by Yinsen, but the knowledge was fading for lack of real use) and a few shout outs from Rhodey. The latter tended to be amusing so he scrolls through them with genuine interest.

His friend, on one of his better days, had found a perfect penance for Tony's press conference announcement. He delighted in locating and finding Tony links to the most cheesy Ironman apparel to be had on the net.

The worst yet? A miniature red and gold romper with the words 'Iron Baby' inscribed on the front.

"Emphasis on worst YET..." Tony murmurs under his breath as he clicks on one of the links Rhodey sent. It leads him to a page full of flashing graphics and screaming text that - once his eyes adjust - turn out to be really BADLY drawn portraits of him. In one about halfway down the page he looks more like a turkey than anything else.

He debates with himself when the link at the bottom is accompanied by a warning message for 'Erotica content.'

Clicks. Snorts coffee out of his nose.

'Note...make sure to remind PR to highlight in my next interest archive that the Starks are JEWISH in descent.' Though he can't fault their...generosity...really. Thanks to Pepper, it's been years since he's been caught naked in public, so he supposes reference pictures are hard to come by.

Tony closes the window and goes back to Rhodey's e-mail. There's several more links and he can only imagine what's on the other end of them. And more so, they almost certainly guarantee that he's not going to be bored.

The next few are more of the same - really bad fan art and some eyebrow raising comics. Though, honestly a few of the comics are right on target to the point where he prints them out. If nothing else he can leave them somewhere for Pepper who he knows will get even more of a kick out of them since it's not her ego being skewered.

It's the fifth link that promises the most entertainment. It's a website titled "StarkNet" - which in and of itself is enough to make him rethink drinking anything at the moment. It seems to be some sort of blog based fiction site with a standard layout and very little in the way of bells and whistles. It's clear that this site is focused on... Writing, Tony deduces after scrolling through the first page. Exclusively focused on writing. He blinks at some of the headers. 'In EVERY possible variation, apparently.'

Each posting has a list of information with it: title, author, rating, summary, etc. They also have a rating system of sorts, stars and numbers. 'Which seem to be an overall rating and…number of reviews.' Tony doesn't know what he's looking for exactly, but he clicks on something that's rated highly and well reviewed and reads what other people think of the fic.

The long list of "great jobs," and "I loved it" don't tell him much.

Tony snorts and hits the back button and clicks on the fic itself. A half hour later he's alternately cracking up and truly being entertained. At the moment his metaphorical – or is it allegorical? – self is in the midst of rescuing some sort of heiress from the bad guys.

And he's a closeted master chef of Italian food, apparently.

A few other stories reveal a great deal of the same - some better some worse. He ends Googling 'Mary Sue' after reading some more vitriolic comments. And then he just admits defeat and looks up all the other slang and abbreviations used on until he's figured out how to read the headers - making sense of labels such as 'slash' 'pwp' 'crackfic' and het.

It's a good waste of time, and for the most part has him alternately preening and shaking his head in bemusement. The characterizations of him when they aren't "generic male machismo" are laughable, caught wildly between angst and animal lust, barely recognizable as human, and at worst, based entirely on past behaviors that living in a cave for three months had forced him to outgrow.

And that's just him. The women involved - and there's almost ALWAYS a woman involved...or an attractive man - are even worse. Hollow excuses to allow someone to get off... Okay, that part might be a little too close to the truth to be comfortable.

Tony goes back to the main page and starts searching for something NEW. Something original that's not Ironman plus damsel in distress equals nudity. That's when he runs across the first of them. 'Who came up with the term Pepperony?' Honestly - it made it sound like he worked in some kind of pizza joint.

He clicks on the first link, eyes going very, VERY wide as his brain finally makes the connection...

Pepper. Tony. Pepperony.

Him and POTTS? Was he THAT obvious? He really had been trying to be good about NOT drooling in public.

He wants to know what people are thinking - if the fairly harmless are thinking it then who knows who else may be - but it only takes him a few seconds to realize that this particular author knows NOTHING. Their handling of Pepper is painfully sympathetic, not that his devoted PA isn't capable of behaving sympathetically but it's also not the first word that springs to mind when he thinks of her. So he goes back to the main page, browses through all the tags until he finds the one listed as "pepperony," then clicks on it. There's a modest list, apparently it's a niche coupling - or "ship" - as opposed to all the fancifully named and faceless women in the other fics.

He sorts them by rating, only to end up with an entire PAGE of fics that are short by some standards - there'd been fics on the front page long enough to qualify as novels. Most of these are approximately 1,000 words or less. 'And apparently VERY well received.' High ratings, lots of reviews, and when he browses through the reviews they actually have something say other than, 'I liked it.'

There are seven authors total in the ship, but approximately 80 percent of the fics are written by one - named simply number1fan.

He clicks on the oldest one – titled only with a date – mostly out of curiosity.

_He's ignoring me. Smugly. _

_I know the two concepts are essentially a contradiction of terms, but our Mr. Stark revels in being a contradiction, along with being other words that rhyme with the sound "dict."_

_Don't judge. A personal assistant is allowed to make personal observations, including:_

_1) Your tie is crooked_

_2) There's food in your beard_

_3) You're being an ass_

_It's just that generally the last of those observations are saved for a PA's last day of work, and dickish behavior notwithstanding, I like my job._

_His attitude shouldn't even be a surprise. It's the end of the fiscal year and he's got to get rid of it so he won't get shortchanged next year, just like all the other departments. I __**knew**__ his behavior was going to be playfully contrary and generally irritating because he hates the paper side of running a business and he's impartial when it comes to sharing that distain. The paper side of a business is nothing but dry facts and figures that don't build up to an explosion of any kind. There's nothing __**living**__ to it in the way that there is when he looks at blueprints and schematics. Expense reports and vouchers and annual reports are the chaff leftover from the act of creation._

_When it comes to closing out the fiscal year, I've learned from experience that if excitement isn't provided, he'll generate it and either I can go along with it and clean up the mess later, or I can stay behind and do the paperwork._

_Well, I already do my fair share of paperwork without doing his as well._

_He's still ignoring me, which is good. It gives me time to glance down and adjust the plunging neckline of my blouse before bending low over his desk to plant both hands to either side of his._

'_There we go.' Eyes snap to and start to dilate. Adam's apple bobs. Hand curls around conveniently placed pen._

"_Mr. Stark, I need you to sign all of these papers where I've indicated before we go to lunch."_

"_Of course, Ms. Potts."_

_Oh, that tone has gotten a lot of women in trouble, but not me. Instead I straighten and slam him with the double whammy, so to speak. He gets to watch my perfectly fitted pencil skirt stroll out of his office._

_I'll get those papers back in record time, just so he can spend the lunch hour trying to get another glimpse down my shirt._

_It's too bad restaurants are always so cold – I probably won't take my suit jacket off the entire time._

This is…nearly perfect. This is not the Pepper Potts Tony knows so well, but it's…close. The humor is right, the understanding of what he finds BORING is right. But there's something blatant to this Pepper that Tony doesn't recognize, and that's somewhat comforting. Otherwise he'd have to wonder about more than what the rest of these stories are like. These stories are amazingly accurate in their emotional quotient - something he didn't run across in those other stories he'd taken a glance at.

Tony reads another, then another, and another until an hour has gone by and Tony's once comforting sense of alien recognition has been overwhelmed by a feeling of familiarity.

He honestly doesn't know whether to be scared or amazed. There's no OVERT cause for concern. For the most part, the settings and situations are generic. There's no mention of anything that people outside this house should know. And yet...in almost every story there is some turn of phrase or personal detail about appearance or tone that's just...creepily accurate.

He looks to the ceiling, chewing his lip thoughtfully a moment. "Your code doesn't allow for creative writing, Jarvis...correct?"

"While I am capable of sustaining a fictional narrative, independently creating scenarios outside of battle simulations is outside of my current operating parameters." There's a pause of several seconds that makes Tony instinctively uneasy. "Though, I have been informed my attempts at Haiku form are...improving with practice."

"Figures," Tony mutters under his breath as he rubs his eyes and stares at his computer screen. 'Haiku. Numbers and syllables pleasing arrangements that DON'T sustain a narrative.' "Jarvis, I need you to track down the IP address of...number1fan. There's something about their stories that just doesn't add up." In the past there have been women who've thought that just by looking at Pepper they could figure out what made her valuable, as if her unique flexibility and steel bear trap of a mind – not to mention the way she turned tomato red whenever she tried to lie to him – could be replicated. Pepper's value lay in a complex interaction of strengths and weaknesses that would be impossible for anyone to duplicate…

But this person has come close enough to make him wary.

"Very well, Sir. Would you also like identity and address if possible?"

"Yes." Tony pushes back from the desk and goes over to the kitchen area. He's got everything in the blender when he realizes he's out of orange juice for his shake. "Be right back, old man," he calls as he trots up the stairs to the kitchen.

When he returns downstairs Jarvis beeps. "Sir, I've located the information you asked for. Display on monitor?"

"Yes." Tony dumps the bottle of orange juice into the blender, turns it on until he's got a sludgy mess of deliciousness, and wonders if he should call Pepper and ask her to go pick some up right now as he wanders back over to his computer. He hopes this is just something he can route through to the legal department along with a cease-and-desist letter. If he has to involve the police, Pepper's going to find out about it.

When he sees the picture on the monitor he nearly drops his glass.

Red hair, big, baby blue doe eyes, humoring smile while she allowed him to take another photo for "security purposes."

"No way in HELL," he mutters under his breath. "Jarvis, you have to be smoking something..."

"I must disagree, Sir. None of my components are overheated."

"There is no way Pepper could have written these..."

"On the contrary, Sir. The style employed matches well with several other short pieces of prose she keeps on her laptop."

"Pepper writes short stories?" Tony pulls up the author profile for "number1fan" and predictably finds nothing at all. But then, if this is Pepper, she wouldn't want to leave any tracks. In fact, the stories are so free of any detail that he's probably the only one who would have gotten a weird read off them.

"Occasionally during her breaks and lunch hours. Do you wish me to decrypt the security code to her personal file folders for a more thorough comparison?"

Ohhh...that's a dangerous question. Tony's tempted. Highly so. He wants to see everything Pepper's written, especially the things she hasn't felt comfortable letting the rest of the world read. But that's just it. It's not as if he's actually invaded her privacy by reading any of these. By getting her IP address, yes, but not by reading what she's posted. If it weren't for Rhodey's perverse sense of humor, he probably wouldn't have ever found them. But breaking into files she'd protected on a server only they two of them had access to…?

"Not right now. Find everything you can that's been written by 'number1fan' and save them to a folder on my personal server, password 'fangirl.' Try to keep it out of the areas Pepper frequents. Cross reference the dates mentioned in the titles with dates involving Pepper or myself."

"Yes, Sir. Estimated completion by 8 am tomorrow."

Tony nods, sitting back and steepling his fingers contemplatively. The way he sees this, he has two options. He can get indignant at the format of this – she is, after all, essentially spilling their lives out for the public to gawk over – or he can use the power of free speech against her.

A smile curls up his lips. "Option two. DEFINITELY." His own personal privacy has never been high on his list of priorities anyway, and it's not as if Pepper's going out of her way to embarrass him.

"Download the stories from this website and save them. Then close the browser and delete the history." Tony picks up his shake and carries it upstairs. "Shut down the workshop for the evening." The rest of the evening is going to be taken up by rereading all of Pepper's stories. He'd skimmed them the first time through - this time he really wanted to absorb what she'd written.

There was a key to something important hidden somewhere in all the things she wasn't saying to him.

* * *

**A/N Con't: **I admit that this one is all my fault, though 4persephone is being a real sport by joining me in this adventure. I know that other stories in the fandom have explored Tony and Pepper's reaction to fan generated fiction, but I wanted to explore each of their reactions to finding out PEPPER was generating fiction. For Pepper, it's a sense of "dear god, what have I done?" For Tony, it's more along the lines of "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Let us know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Wow! The response to this has been so overwhelming. I'm so glad that you're all enjoying this as much as 4persephone and I are enjoying writing it. So, just for all of YOU, we made sure to include a Tony drabble in here to balance the Pepper drabble we had in the last one.

* * *

Two days later Pepper gets home from the office a little later than usual...though for once it isn't because of anything Tony's done to muck up their schedule. If anything, he's been unusually...well...COMPLIANT lately. Either he's apologizing for something she doesn't know about or he's up to something.

'Probably the latter,' she admits with no little amusement. Her boss had been spending HOURS in the shop lately working on something or another...a new project she can only assume.

She only hope whatever it is won't put holes in the floor this time.

Pepper kicks off her shoes and pulls out her hair tie with a happy sigh before padding back to her bedroom to change. For her evenings in, Pepper likes to get comfortable. It's not until she's washed her face and changed into her sweats and an old t-shirt that she settles down in front of her laptop at her coffee table with a plate of reheated lasagna and a glass of wine. Then she wakes up her computer and navigates to StarkNet which has become her new guilty pleasure.

She's been a little...stunned...by the positive reception to her work, actually. She's managed to spawn…well MINIONS she supposes is the best term. Which is impressive, she acknowledges with a wry grin, since she'd made such an effort to keep her own reputation low key.

Her first fiction had been complimented for its humor. The second for its "intriguing alternate universe feel." The third for "having the guts to assume even an obnoxious ass might occasionally be sympathetic and human."

She'd been the first to the ship, though she'd ADAMENTLLY objected to its nickname. She'd tried for something a little more dignified but had been scared into submission by the suggestion they go with the identification 'Topper's' instead.

She didn't even want to imagine how Tony would have reacted to THAT one, because like it or not, Tony was never far from her thoughts when she's working through this.

Pepper shakes her head at herself and takes a bite of her dinner while checking the messages left for her on the site. There's the usual reviews - "I loved it," "I read through all of your stories and didn't get any sleep," "Please update," etc. She bypasses most of those for what they are, looking for the ones that have an ounce of actual critique in them. She likes knowing when a misspelled word or a misplaced one. She also likes – as long as the reader isn't haughty about it - seeing how her perception of Tony measures up to general public perception.

A message at the bottom of the list in particular catches her eye. 'Fascinating concept...though you might want to tone down the "Geek" Stark habit a little bit. I very much doubt he is actually that obnoxious when working on a new project.'

There's a space then, followed by, 'Rumor has it you beta occasionally for new writers attaching themselves to this dingy. Is that true?'

Pepper just shakes her head at her own stupidity. She shouldn't even be encouraging herself, much less others in this mad enterprise. However, she's also taken it upon herself to try to...guide...how other people portray Tony. And herself, if she's honest. The last thing she needs to be portrayed as either a hussy or a wimp.

'Occasionally,' she finally types back. 'But not the stuff that's purely...titillating.' She really can't imagine much worse than reading someone else's imaginings of her and Tony...

"Oh god," she murmurs to herself as she sends the message off and pulls up Word. A few times her own stories have gotten away from her and led into what can only be described as erotic territory. However, she doesn't keep those on her computer. They're buried in a notebook in the bottom drawer of her nightstand, meant for no one's eyes, not even hers once she's written them down. She ought to burn the thing just to make doubly sure Tony will never see it.

She's a few paragraphs into proofreading her next story when a new message appears in her inbox. 'No worries. I don't work at Harlequin. The worst of it is a little bit of necking.' Again, there's a few lines blank before she reaches the gist of the note.

'I like the way you actually remember to make your characters human. You know. Tony's...likeable. Though he's also an epic level ASS.'

Pepper snorts to herself then hits the reply button. 'I suspect that the contrast is actually part of the addiction.'

They're common misconceptions. After all, most of what the public sees these days falls into two categories: Tony still running off at the mouth in front of the media, and his superhero mask. There's not a lot of room for humanity left between the two.

She thinks a moment then, 'Research what the man and his company have done that he doesn't constantly bullshit about in front of a camera...you'll start to get a more realistic view of who he might be.' Every comment and explanation she makes to people HAS to be explained away by the kind of general knowledge that anyone could possess. Anything indicating personal knowledge is verboten.

Pepper sends that, then turns her attention back to her story. She's been jumping around in her stories, mainly posting ones that were lighter in subject matter. Ones that were funny or ironic or just blazing examples of stupidity on either her or Tony's part. But now she's run out of those, and is left with the ones that MEAN something. Just like she knew she eventually would be. The "lightest" fic left to be posted isn't all that light and really just isn't up to par yet. Maybe it won't be. There's something about it that makes her want to keep it private.

'Yeah, SOMETHING,' Pepper mocks herself as she takes her dirty dinner dishes into the kitchen. That something is that this fic doesn't paint her in the best light. It delves into how she's sometimes jealous of the things Tony gives his attention to willingly when it seems like she has to force him to acknowledge her presence. It's unflattering and ignoble...but the emotion in it is true, and that's really the only benchmark she's ever held herself to. And since no one KNOWS that Pepper Potts is actually behind the fics that feature her almost without actually mentioning her name...

Well, then pride is a silly reason to hold herself back. Might as well continue to be honest.

There's another new email waiting for her when she comes back to the table. This one has a file attached.

'There you go. Forgive me if I'm not quite as verbose as you...still new to this whole fanfiction thing. Also if my nick's not a clear enough clue, I have a Y chromosome. Let me know if the testosterone or mechanical details ever start drowning an actual story.'

Pepper glances at the right corner of her screen: "TurboCharged," she murmurs to herself, shaking her head. 'Don't worry,' she writes back. 'I know a few things about cars. And by all accounts, Stark likes fast cars himself.'

She clicks open the file….

_"He offered you WHAT?" Pepper's voice is disbelieving..._

_I shrug in reply as I unfasten my tie and suit jacket and throw them over the bar as I reach for a….ooohhh, a REALLY good bottle of rum. "Three sheep, two goats, and a really honking big swordfish. Mai tai?"_

_She looks at the bottle of rum, not out of interest, but because she seems to be absolutely speechless. "You...he..." She sputters. "You're seriously saying that the chief of that tribe tried to BUY ME?!"_

_"Don't be ridiculous, Ms. Potts. On the behalf of his son, he offered what he saw as a reasonable bride-price. I was told the goats are especially good breeders..." I reply as I set out two glasses and start looking for the appropriate juice to cut the alcohol with._

_"Ha! No doubt gambling on the hope that the same could be said of me. What did he do when you told him 'no'?" When I don't answer immediately, Pepper's ears start to turn red and I have to work really hard to keep a straight face. "You DID tell him, no, didn't you?"_

_"I tried, Pepper. I really did. But then he offered me a season's worth of pearls."_

_"An. Thon. Y. Stark..." If Pepper Potts were a cartoon character, right now puffs of smoke would be shooting out her ears._

_"Don't worry. I wasn't tempted by the pearls. They're really not 'bling' enough. However, when he offered me my own island -"_

_"They will NEVER find your body."_

_I think better of offering Pepper her drink. In this state she might actually toss it back in my face…and then she'd feel bad later. I just can't keep from teasing her a little more though. "Potts -" I call as she turns to storm out of the room. She pauses very briefly on the threshold of the room. "It was a really nice island." I can't see her face, but from the way her back goes ramrod straight, I can imagine what her face must look like._

_I can't hold in the laughter any more and Pepper shoots me a look that normally would have me shaking in my boots before she leaves the room. "No! Hey, Pepper! Wait." She doesn't of course, and I can hardly blame her; I get up and case after her._

_"It's not like I was SERIOUS," I defend, falling into step beside her. "It's just...he was so EARNEST. You have to admit it's a LITTLE bit funny..."_

_"I'll remember that the next time you beg me to offer the high bid at a charity auction." Pepper's demeanor is stony, unyielding._

_'Oh.' I wince at that. Pepper's always my ace in the hole to get me out of trouble at those things. "Sorry."_

_"No you're not."_

_She's got a point there, but it's not as if I can admit it. "Potts, I tried. I've never said no so many times to someone in my life. It's not MY fault he thought I was trying to haggle with him." We reach her bedroom on the other side of the villa from mine. She shuts the door in my face. "Com'on, Pepper."_

_"The deal is DONE, Stark. Go out and surf with the sharks for awhile or something. "_

_Oh Pepper... "As long as you're in there, change into something nice. The chief decided to deal with you directly since I was clearly going to charge him an arm and a leg."_

_The door wrenches open. "He's supposed to come barter with ME?"_

_I hold up my hands defensively; she's got the pointy heel of one shoe right in my face. She might actually be considering the merits of stabbing me._

_"I told him you'd say no but he didn't believe me. What do you want me to say? He clearly knows a good thing when he sees it."_

_Pepper groans, banging her head against the door gently several times. "Why didn't you just tell him that I'm already TAKEN, Tony?"_

_I look at her, struck speechless myself. "Well...he didn't ask if you were taken. He asked if you and I..." I motion between us meaningfully; Pepper's a smart girl and she can figure this out without me saying anything. It'll only embarrass her further if I say it out loud. As it is, she turns just the slightest bit pink._

_"In case you were wondering, that was the first time I told him no."_

_"He really offered a SWORDFISH?" she finally asks after a moment._

_"Stuffed and mounted. I think. Or maybe it was filleted." I can't remember if swordfish is a delicacy. One of the issues with price NEVER being an issue._

_Peppers snorts a little. "I think I'd have preferred a pufferish."_

_"Aren't they poisonous?" Rather than answering, Pepper closes the door again. And locks it. "Pepper?" No answer. "Pepper?"_

The story itself is fairly compelling...a vignette of sorts, this time from the male perspective. The author's word choices are a little repetitive but his snark makes her grin and his basic premise is believable. If there's anything that she has issue with really, is that he's taken what might be seen as the easy route with his Pepper character. She's…well, Pepper can't say that the reactions are off. God knows that if she ever found out that Tony had been made an offer for her, she'd probably blow her top. But that's all this Pepper is doing. There's only that one note.

After reading the story through again and highlighting a few recommended changes, Pepper prepares to bundle the story back. 'Overall this is pretty damn good. Your concept is solid and so's your characterization of Stark. The two things I would advise you to do is to watch your use of vocabulary – there's a few sections that got a little repetitive – and watch your handling of Potts. Let the humor that shines through the rest of the story touch her too. It doesn't have to be big and flashy, but it'll help her to be as human as Stark is.'

Pepper looks at her advice. It seems…objective. It doesn't sound defensive. It doesn't sounds as if she's defending herself. It's just advice on how to firm up characterization. As for any "necking"… Well, if "Turbo" has written it, it's not in this story. Which is a relief. She still doesn't read anything involving Tony that doesn't a) appear in the media or b) get sent to her by uncertain writers, who more often than not make her cringe. Not because they're particularly tasteless, but because she doesn't like the thought of anyone else speculating about how intimate she and Tony are. Especially since everyone is wrong.

Not just wrong about the level of intimacy between she and Tony, but they…they don't get the issues or the emotions right. Not surface emotions like joy or fear or lust, but the ones that matter – trust, commitment, and vulnerability.

Pepper pushes those thoughts out of her head and tries to focus on the screen in front of her. She manages to get through a full page of proofreading and second guessing before her last message is replied to, this time in a new format.

A small window pops up on the screen, the text box for the site's instant messaging program. -Sorry. Had to check on my own mechanical baby for a minute. Thanks for the advice. I hear you on the Potts thing. She's been portrayed in so many ways by so many of the other writers that it's hard to always get a real feel for her to be honest. I mean, minus her mental workings. That's probably why your stuff actually works so well, come to think of it. *tilts head* So have you ever considered doing one of these things with both a male and female perspective? Just to see how it changes the flavor?-

Pepper thinks about that for a long times as she works through cleaning up her own story. Writing something from Tony's perspective would definitely shake things up some, or at least, it'd shake up the people reading her stories. But...

Pepper eventually writes back, -I could probably fake a pretty convincing Tony Stark. But that's all I'd be doing. With Potts, I can understand where the emotion comes from. I wouldn't have that same understanding with him.-

A smiley face appears on her screen. -That was kind of my POINT to be honest. How well can you understand any conversation if you don't understand BOTH participants' perspectives? Aren't you really providing only half the equation?- Across town, Tony eagerly waits her answer. She seriously doesn't think she "gets" him? There's days where he thinks they could enact that old Johnny Carson skit – the Great Carnak. "Expense reports, first draft of the MIT speech, and the new episode of House." "Things I'm not going to see today."

Out of all the people he knows, Pepper's one of the ones who "gets" him the best.

However, as assured as Tony is, Pepper's less so. She looks at the question on her computer screen and thinks. How well DOES she know Tony? It's certainly something she's explored in her stories and she doesn't have anything else to say about it that she hasn't already shared. So she opts for humor. -You want me to walk up to Tony Stark and demand that he explain himself? I'd get thrown in jail.-

-LOL- appears on the screen. -I suspect that would depend on whether you're his type or not.-

-Type? The gossip columns seem to think that's anything with a pulse.-

-I thought you said the tabloids were a poor way to judge true character. Unless you're claiming you know him personally...?-

Pepper freezes. "Shit." She sits there quietly for a long few minutes then types, -I'm not judging character. I'm judging taste. They're not necessarily the same thing.-

-And what flavor is he?-

-I'm sure I don't know. Clearly I'm trying to make a case for some sort of relationship between Stark and Potts, but as you pointed out, from the viewpoint I write from, that's more indicative of her taste than his.-

-But if tastes aren't complimentary why even bother to TRY a relationship?- That's something else Tony can't figure out. None of the stories he's read so far involve any mention of an intimate emotional relationship, much less a physical one. But they all sort of circle around this unexpressed longing or sense that there's something MORE behind them than what's written.

Pepper snorts, though she also acknowledges the validity of the point on some level at least. -I suppose that's why I'm writing fiction rather than trying to hook them up in real life. It's less of a stretch. I can make him respond to her the way I want him to and neither of them gets hurt.-

Pepper shakes herself. This conversation has gotten very somber. Or at least it has from her end of things. Time for a change of topic. -You take your fiction very seriously.-

-I'm a bit of a perfectionist about my work,- Tony admits. Then chuckles to himself. -Though I know some people who would rudely call it "obsessive."-

Pepper laughs a little to herself when she reads that admission. -If it's any comfort, I've been called a workaholic too.-

-I figured. Your stories are nearly perfect. Tells me you spend a long time on them rather than leading with your gut and puking your inner workings all over the internet.-

Pepper snorts. -Did you just compare fanfiction to VOMIT?-

-I've read some stuff on this site that was pretty hard to stomach. Though I shouldn't complain…I chose to hit the back button a couple times as well.-

Pepper chews her lower lip again. -I understand. I don't even read most of it to be honest.-

-So what got you into it then?-

Pepper shoots the answer back, since she's not ready to answer it herself. -What got you?-

-Honestly? Plain curiosity. Now what about you?-

Oh...so many ways to answer that question. But she was being honest, which left one answer. -I was looking for a way to express myself, I suppose. I mean, I try to focus on the emotions and let the characters be secondary. Who hasn't felt like Potts has, or at least, the way I write her?-

A pause then. -Well I suppose that's better than me. *grin* I heard rumors of tentacle sex. -

Pepper laughs out loud, for real, her laughter ringing through the apartment. -I'm not beta-ing anything like that.-

Tony grins, shifts in his seat and cracks a bottle of Perrier. -You know, you're gonna have to lose your smut virginity eventually. The masses demand it.-

-I'm a grown woman. I don't have to do anything I don't want to.- 'And my boss isn't around to order me to.'

Tony snorts. -Don't worry, Padawan, you'll come to the dark side eventually...-

-Wrong fandom, Turbo.-

Tony debates for a moment or so. -If you say so, Fanny.-

Pepper's eyes widen. -I've been posting here for nearly two months now, and no one has dared call me that. Give me a moment - speaking of posts, I need to upload a new one.-

-Oooh....crack then. Your nick's too formal...not to mention unspecific.-

-My username was specifically chosen to reflect exactly what I wanted it to. And, since I seem to be responsible for launching what seems to be turning into a fandom in itself, it applies.-

-Whatever you say, Fanny. You gonna be online again tomorrow?-

-Depends. My job gets hectic sometimes.-

-Jerk ass boss?-

-No...just a little high maintenance.-

-Aren't we all. I'll work on this some more and then get back to you for a second read through if you don't mind.-

-I'll think about it. Asking me using my full name might get you somewhere.-

-Yes, Ma'am.-

-That's NOT my name.-

-Neither is number one fan. I'll see you later.-

Before Pepper can reply the window pops out, and a message window informs her that TurboCharged has left the chat room. "That was NOT amusing," she tells herself sternly, before leaving the room as well.

She does smirk just a little though, for the rest of the night.

* * *

'Paperwork finished. Equations double checked. Inventory of shop supplies done – make sure to give Pepper the sheet with the list of stuff to reordered first thing in the morning.'

Not tonight though, or she'll likely try and fill out the corporate forms before she leaves.

Which would be nice, but for the fact that it would cut short their weekly critique night. He and Pepper had fallen into a pattern of sorts, over the last few weeks. Or at least, Number1Fan and TurboCharged bumped into each other online most Tuesday or Thursday evenings. He orders pizza and Pepper consumes whatever leftover are in her fridge while the two of them chat and work on their individual vignettes.

'Note to self – find an excuse to go to that new Greek restaurant in the downtown some time tomorrow or Friday.' Pepper as it turns out LOVES Mediterranean food. Exotic olives especially.

"Ms. Potts has left the house," Jarvis informs Tony, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Great. Make reservations for that new Greek restaurant on Bellevue for tomorrow or the day after." Tony pushes out of his seat and trots up the stairs to raid his fridge.

"How many in the party?"

"Uh…just two, unless you can manage to schedule a lunch meeting there. Did you order my pizza?"

"I put in your regular Thursday evening order approximately twenty-three minutes ago. Your order should arrive at 6:45 pm as per usual."

Tony nods and fishes a beer out of the back of the fridge. At some point the last few months, power drinks and fruit juices have edged out beverages of the alcoholic variety. 'Signs of the times,' he tells himself as he tosses a bottle cap into the garbage and heads back downstairs.

He wonders what Pepper's going to say tonight. Over the internet she comes across as charmingly honest, and Tony supposes that's because she IS honest with him during their chats. She's just not very forthcoming about anything personal.

In one way, he's glad. Never has she let slip anything that could identify her, and he's paranoid enough about her safety that he's happy that she's taking her physical privacy seriously. However, it also makes getting any info about her day like pulling teeth. He likes hearing about her day from her standpoint. Or from Fanny's standpoint rather than Pepper's, he supposes. Pepper is a good little soldier and doesn't complain or shirk orders. Fanny has an opinion on almost everything.

It's made the effort to get to know her a rather intoxicating game. And what he HAS learned has been as much through her stories as their internet chats…assuming she's not making up the majority of her character's tastes and occasional memories.

It had been...interesting…reading about some of the things they'd worked together on over the years. Seeing her perspective on some of his projects, both good and ill. Interesting, and hard. He'll admit to that. He'd had to learn fast to leave his ego at the door.

Pepper tells the TRUTH...well at least the truth as she sees it. Her insights - on other people they worked with and the problems they'd encountered - were often thought provoking. Though of course that was a puzzle too, since she never used any other SI employee's real name. Still, there was at least one member of SI security who was going to get a promotion next time one came open.

He tries to be as honest with her in his responses as she is to his questions, but Pepper rarely asks anything past surface questions and he suspects that if he hadn't gotten her to be his beta, she never would have searched out his writing at all. She honestly has no interest in what other people think about her - and he'd include himself – himself as Tony - in there if she hadn't written several brutally honest pieces about them.

It intrigues him that Pepper doesn't try to excuse or explain away the dance between them. Not "the dance" as in him in a tux and her in that blue dress and them on an empty balcony, but the metaphorical dance between them that had everything to do with interdependence and mutual attraction and a feeling that SOMETHING wasn't quite right yet.

She'd gotten her first serious load of critical reviews for a piece that didn't cast her in the best light - a woman walking out on a wounded hero out of spite. Now, Tony knew what had really happened, and so he was able to see how her own feelings had magnified his injuries. Yeah, she'd been rough and terse, but he'd been poking at her to distract himself and had gone too far. But she hadn't included that part.

He'd - well, "Turbo" - had asked her why she'd chosen to come down so hard on Potts (one of Pepper's unspoken rules was that she only referred to them both by last name. It seemed to help her set the characters aside from the people). She'd answered that everyone was human, and everyone responded ignobly sometimes, and no one could always be perfect. That was just how life worked.

Her fairness had been heartening. Not to mention a relief. It was nice to know the woman he cared for wasn't actually seeking actual perfection. Just a strong grasp of self and a decent sense of empathy.

-You're sure quiet tonight. What's wrong, pizza guy deliver the wrong order?- The blinking window finally pulls Tony out of his internal musings. Normally he buzzes Pepper first. After all, she has to drive home where he just has to choose which computer he's going to use.

-Nah...just reading reviews.- It's not technically a lie. It's just that only one new one had been posted since he checked his two vignettes last night. -You know...these readers scare me sometimes.-

-You mean how a lot of them are looking for a fairy tale instead of messy human lives and get righteously angry if you dare give them something other than a happy ending?-

-No...I meant the nut who just informed me Stark's far too 'butch' to ever wear silk underwear.-

-LOL!- Tony has to smile at Pepper's expression of amusement. He thinks he might have actually gotten a genuine laugh out of her. Still, he'd love to see her response to that. Not that he thinks she'll say anything to give herself away.

-I don't know. If you're dressing to impress, then only the best will do, right? That's why women splurge for the fancy Victoria's Secret stuff. Functionally, cotton works just as well as silk, but it doesn't have the right impact on a date.-

Tony's eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline. Pepper is discussing her underwear? With a near stranger? -Is this the voice of experience talking?-

-I might confess to once or twice buying intimate wear that cost more than the monthly rent on my first apartment.-

Tony grins, shaking his head. -I suppose we all have at least on weak spot for luxuries. Though yours sure sound a lot more...potentially mutually beneficial...than mine.-

-What would you do if I claimed I needed it for work?-

-Lingerie?- His eyebrows climb skyward again.

-Well...there's days a girl needs to get her support from somewhere.-

Tony chortles aloud. -I take it you don't get a lot from your colleagues?-

On the other end Pepper shrugs a little at herself. -My position tends to make me an odd-ball out at my particular company. Not hated but not really a regular at the water cooler either.-

Tony looks at that message a long time. He supposes she's right, though he's never thought about it. (There's been a lot of things Pepper's said over the last few weeks that he's never thought about.) When they're here at the house, she interacts with him and with Jarvis; as her boss, she can't really come to him with the kind of small complaints and gossip that's exchanged at water coolers, and Jarvis for all his programming, isn't a person. When they're at the office, Pepper rarely leaves his side unless he needs her to do something for him, and so doesn't really get a chance to do more than exchange raised eyebrows with other PAs.

That really only leaves Rhodey, and while the lieutenant could probably be considered a social "equal" who - if he can believe what Pepper's written - she's gone to when she needs to unburden herself, they aren't actually coworkers.

In fact, Pepper technically doesn't have ANY coworkers. She works for him, not SI.

-Sounds...- Tony isn't sure what to say.

-Sounds...?- Pepper responds.

-I'd say "lonely," but I don't think you'd appreciate the sentiment.-

There's a pause then that has him wondering what she's thinking. Her reply is a little surprising. -Would you judge me if I admit most days at least its actually one of my FAVORITE parts of my job? That the banality of office politics in my old job used to drive me stark raving crazy?-

Tony blinks. -You're saying you LIKE the isolation?-

-When it save me from having to spend my days biting back the urge to verbally decimate idiots? Yeah. I'm wearing a t-shirt with the logo 'I see dumb people' right now actually.-

-Why, Fanny. Your faith in the human race inspires me.- Tony grins as he pokes at his keyboard. He has to admit that trying his hand at creative writing has been some serious mental exercise. He'll also admit that if it weren't for Pepper, he probably would have given up on it awhile ago. It's not that he's bad at it, just that he doesn't have her flair and there are always other things to do. So, it takes him a lot more time to work up something that's ready for the public eye than it takes her. -Hey, after all this talk about underwear, does that mean you're ready to pop your smut cherry yet?-

-Not on the third vignette,- she shoots back smoothly, thankful that he can't see the way that she's blushing

-You're complaining because you're finishing more vignettes than me? Most women think that makes for the perfect guy.-

Pepper snorts soda out of her nose.

-You are TERRIBLE,- she finally shoots back chidingly.

-You're the one who advised me that in order to write Stark I needed to immerse myself in him. You can't complain about the results.-

He has a point she admits. -Yes well, you seem rather eager to prod me into the deep end of a pool where there's also a distinct lack of YOU.- She's hoping...futility probably…that he'd back off at the suggestion he can't tell her to write smut if he hasn't.

-In my opinion, smut should be a two person operation. You just let me know when you're ready.-

Pepper flushes, because her unruly imagination – the one that got her into this in the first place? – has only gotten more unruly with freedom and practice. And when Turbo suggests that they write…erotica…together… It's a far more tempting offer than it should be, and only the fact that it'd still come down to writing her and Tony together keeps her from giving in to his teasing. -Thanks, but I'll keep my cyber-garters ON for the time being.-

She adds a smiley face hoping the let down didn't come off as too scathing...because the offer is...flattering...well sort of anyway. And more so because it's been awhile since she's so genuinely enjoyed anyone's occasional company. If she's honest with herself, Turbo reminds her a little of a harmless Tony Stark - if such a thing existed. He's pleasant company without actually being company, he doesn't badger her for anything except advice, and he can make her laugh with his oddball observations.

Wait. Turbo doesn't remind her of Tony, he reminds her of a more human Jarvis.

-Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Direct Shot through the heart. Ah well...back to tentacle sex then.-

The icon with a tongue sticking out makes her exhale in reflexive relief. This guy seems to be taking the rejection with his typical humor.

-Is there really tentacle sex on this site?- Pepper can't stop herself from asking.

-No. THANK GOD. I'd have never recovered.-

Pepper sighs in relief. THAT would be the worst thing she'd ever read about Tony Stark doing. -Oh good. Because I thought I'd done a good job when I vetted this site. Can't be posting stories about "messiness of life" stuff on a site that shares space with tentacle porn.-

-I agree. Even fangirls need standards.-

-And fanboys.- Pepper shakes her head. She'd always known that Tony had fanboys - science and robot geeks, that sort of thing. This sort of experience made the concept a little surreal though. -You don't build robots in your spare time, do you?-

There's a pause for a moment. -Ever or recently?- Then he adds, -Is it still geeky if in the past I've done it as a JOB?-

-I never said it was geeky,- Pepper replies. -Just...it figures. It just figures.-

-What does?-

Pepper looks at the question, slowly realizing that she can't say, "Well, all of Tony's fanboys are engineers." What startles her is that she wants to. However, if she does, she's going to come across as some kind of wacko who likes to pretend she knows Tony Stark. THE Tony Stark.

-Well, Stark's some kind of mechanical mastermind, right? So it makes sense that all the fanboys build battle bots or something in their spare time. When they're not writing, that is.-

-Pity. And here I thought you were going to say all engineers have similarly drawing personalities.-

-No. but there's definitely some evidence for overactive flirt and sarcasm genes. Must come from sitting in labs all day, talking to things that can't talk back,- she adds after a moment.

-Ouch. *splatter sizzle* You certainly through me on the griddle there.-

-Sorry. Sometimes my sarcasm gets away from me.- Pepper sighs. -I suppose I have a whole lot of room to talk, though. So far, our little chats are the closest I've had to a hot date in over a year.-

Tony considers; meaningful, stuff of life conversation than replies -I sympathize. Unfortunately the only cure for that is to log off and get an actual life.-

-But then you'd be left all alone with your tentacle sex and your battle bots.-

-Kinky.- Tony's about to type something more about Pepper being a tease when the TV comes on, flashing images of destruction, and Jarvis interrupts.

"Sir, your attention is needed in Peshawar. Armed militants are apparently using Stark Industries weapons to fire on a UN supply party crossing through the Khyber Pass."

Tony sighs, and finishes the smart remark he was going to send to Pepper. -Are you sure you don't want some engineering lessons?- "Jarvis, call Ms. Potts and alert her to the situation."

"Would it not be easier for you to tell her now, as you are in communication with her?"

Tony knows the concept of deception is not beyond Jarvis, however, his AI is being stubbornly disapproving of this little masquerade with Ms. Potts. So, he says very patiently, "No. 'TurboCharged' is in communication with her. And it's going to look fishy if I tell her that I-her-friend-Turbo has to go, and then I-myself-Tony calls to tell her I have to leave. So please call her so she can end the conversation."

"Affirmative, Sir." Jarvis complies without further argument.

-Why do I feel that offer runs along the same lines as helping to write smut? Brb, phone call.-

Tony sighs, disappointed that this night is coming to an abrupt end. Or at least, their conversation is. His night is only just beginning. While he waits for Pepper to tell him she's got to go, he moves to his kitchenette and makes up a smoothie, dumping in one of those five hour energy drinks just to be safe. He needs to be alert and hydrated when he hits Peshawar.

Sure enough... -I need to cut this short, Turbo. There's an emergency at work.-

-Emergency? Isn't it like...nearly eight?-

-You poor thing. You actually think that means something. I can get back on in an hour or so if you'll still be around.-

Tony casts about rather desperately for an excuse. -Actually, I'm meeting up with some other 'geek' friends of mine to see the biggest 3D experience of the year.-

Pepper assumes he's referring to the latest sci-fi thriller at the theaters, but she can't help but tease him, -Yeah, yeah. Try not to spend too much at the strip club. Don't part with those twenties for anything other than tentacles. See you later.-

She logs off without giving him a chance to reply.

Tony snorts, logging off himself. Then goes to shower and jump into his skin-suit.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** ahhh! I have no idea what to say except you guys are all the greatest, and each and every review and smiley face is appreciated. That, and in my opinion, Ibuprofen should be spelled with a "ph" and not a "f".

Send well wishes out to 4persephone and her brood. They're trying to get settled in Minnesota at the moment. Work progresses on our three other stories slowly due to that and my being kinda obsessed with the latest Anne Bishop book. She's a fantasy writer I HIGHLY recommend. If you take me up on it, start with her Black Jewels series. The first book is called Daughter of the Blood.

* * *

When Tony logs in next its a full three days later, and while he's successfully made it out of bed, he aches from head to toe. The mission had been successful, but at the cost of a minor concussion, at least two cracked ribs, and an ankle that still didn't have a full range of motion thanks to a particularly ungraceful landing.

Pepper had taken one look at him when he got home and cancelled his appointments for a week before moving into his guest room so he'd have someone close at hand, at least for the first twenty-four hours. It was something he would have no doubt appreciated more if he hadn't been in a drug-induced haze. At the end of day two she'd gone home around ten...albeit with not quite completely veiled reluctance.

Now at the end of day three, he's managed to coax her off at six, by announcing when he came in that his goal was to imitate a coach potato from the moment that the business day came to an end – and that unless she wanted to watch him watch repeats of Baywatch all evening long it was time for her to "catch up on laundry or sleep or something."

Pepper had been...torn. Mainly between annoyance and amusement. "_Call me_ if you need anything," she'd demanded as she'd cluttered the table in front of him with everything she thought he might need, short of alcohol. He was still on some low grade pain meds and she said her tolerance of his risk taking behavior stopped at mixing narcotics with alcohol.

"What I need is for you to get out of my hair," he'd said, half teasing, half serious. He'd gotten so used to talking to "Fanny" that this hovering, eagle-eyed version of Pepper was getting on his nerves a little.

It was then that he considered he might be getting in a little over his head. He also decided he didn't care. He _liked_ talking to Pepper too much to stop meeting her online. And he was starting to wonder if the feeling wasn't mutual, because it seemed as if Pepper had checked her e-mail an unusual number of times that afternoon.

He had a eerie sort of feeling the two of them were...well...sort of dating?

Which was good...if he didn't think too hard about the fact that she was essentially all but cheating on him _with_ him.

'Cheating's a bit harsh, Stark,' his conscience was quick to point out. 'After all, there's a difference between being emotionally attached to someone and being willing to chance a relationship because of those feelings.

Still, she was using him to avoid dealing with him. There was _definite_ irony.

He wondered what she would do if he started dropping hints. What would her reaction be? If she started to suspect that TurboCharged was Tony Stark, would she be happy? Or would she pull back from that contact too? Or stop writing altogether? Tony didn't want that to happen, not just from a selfish, he-wanted-to-know-what-she-was-thinking standpoint, but because he could tell that it was helping her relieve stress.

She hadn't snapped at him once since he'd gotten back this latest time.

So, telling her..._ever_ telling her who he was, was going to be, at best, very tricky. It was tempting to just stay tucked in the protected little hole they'd unintentionally carved for themselves online.

'Figure out what to do about it later,' he tells himself firmly. 'She'll probably be on in 5...4...3...2...'

Number1Fan's name flared to life on his chat engine's main screen. Her status made him laugh. 'Give me Mushu Pork or give me death.'

-Tough day?- he asks her, wondering what she'll say in reply to that.

-Tough week,- she acknowledges. -Though getting easier with each days that passes.-

-Are you going to tell me why it was rough? Or am I going to have to keep guessing what it is you do, my mysterious compadre. Though if you insist on keeping me in the dark, I have no problem telling myself you're a world class femme assassin a la Angelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith.-

Pepper snorts. -Hardly. I'm an executive's supremely boring administrative assistant. That's all I'm gonna say though...after all, for all I know you could be a snarky version of Hannibal Lecture.-

-See, that's exactly the sort of excuse a top level assassin should use so that she doesn't have to off her nearest and dearest...you are a woman and not a 54 year old man, aren't you?-

-My name is Bob. I have a comb-over,- she shoots back, deadpan.

-Hmmm. You've just ruined the fantasy for me. We can no longer write tentacle machine porn together.-

-Since we were never _going_ to, I weep at the fact. Copiously.-

There's a knock on the door and Pepper just about knocks the table over in her haste to answer the door. That must be dinner. Tonight she is going to pig out on Chinese food and the half full container of Ben & Jerry's Americone Dream in her freezer. She'd throw a glass of wine in for good measure, but she wants to be able to drive if Tony needs her.

She dishes out her dinner and puts it in the microwave to reheat quickly as she changes into sweats and fuzzy socks.

When she gets back, it's to find the window idle. She frowns a moment then types in, -You still with me?-

-Yeah.- The replies comes back. -Just deciding if I'm motivated enough to get up and make a run on the freezer. I've been eating light the past few days, but I'm finally starting to feel hungry again.-

She frowns. -You're sick?-

-Nah. Just been putting in some long hours at work. My 'cubicle' has a lousy, lousy snack machine.-

-That is a load of male machismo if I've ever heard it. You should make yourself some chicken soup or scramble up some eggs. Depriving yourself of protein is a bad thing.-

-I have some frozen wild rice soup in the freezer. As I said, I'm working on the motivation thing.-

Pepper snorts. -How's this for motivation: until you eat, you don't get your beta back.-

Tony blinks. -You're kidnapping my story?-

-I prefer to think of it as a 'pleasant short term vacation.'-

-Will there be smut in it when I get back?-

-Go _eat_ your dinner, Tony.-

Tony catches his breath. 'Tony?' She _knows_? He exhales carefully. 'Don't overreact.' Then types in -Tony?-

Pepper looks at the question blinking on her screen. -Tony/Turbo. Sorry. I've been writing in my head all day to distract myself, and I guess I'm still in full Potts-mother-hen mode.-

Tony relaxes. -That's fine. I don't mind playing your 'metaphorical Tony.'-

-God, that's the last thing I need. First you volunteer to be my metaphorical Tony, and the next thing I know, my metaphorical Potts will have her tongue down his metaphorical throat. Go get something to eat before I type metaphorical again.-

-Chicken- He replies. -BRB.-

Chicken? No, Just hanging on to her principles by her fingertips and finding it all too easy to flirt with her online friend. Pepper gently bangs the back of her head against her couch. 'Get a grip,' she advises herself. 'You always knew this was a slippery path. Don't screw things up now.'

When Turbo returns he types, -There. Supper cooking in the microwave. Sorry if I came on a little strong. A friend of mine once told me if it was all that's available I'd flirt with a mirror.- Pepper raises a brow at that, but he's not done. There's three ellipses then... -Crap. I _didn't_ mean that as insulting. Just...let me know if I sometimes spread in on a little too much.-

Pepper smiles to herself. -I didn't mean to slam you. It's just...like I said, it's been a long week. I'm more tempted than usual to give in to your pleas for smut.-

There's a pause, then, -Would that really be such a bad thing? Not trying to push...just curious. Why the hang up?-

-Other than I'd probably write _really_ bad sex?- She sighs. -We're not actually dealing with fictional characters here. Somewhere these people actually exist and almost no one actually knows what their relationship is like. It's not only somewhat creepy to write about them having sex, but also hugely arrogant to assume you have right to do whatever you want with their likenesses. If you were in their place, would you want strangers thinking of new and unusual ways for you to have sex with your friends?-

Tony supposes she's got a point, however, now she's distracted him with something else. -So you think they _are_ friends?- The question's a little bit cautious

On the other end Pepper snorts – high and loud. -Do you think she'd have stayed working for him all these years if they weren't? Don't even get me started on all the sordid rumors that probably get formed around the two of them. Half the world probably thinks she's _gay_...and thus the ultimate chase because she's impossible and he just can't admit that. Or that she's got some kind of blackmail or collar and leash hooked into him.-

Tony doesn't even know where to begin to answer any of that. Finally he settles for, -What if he chases her, not because she's impossible and thus the ultimate quarry, but because he suspects that somewhere deep down, she is _very_ possible?- He pauses, then adds. -Who else really actually gets into his real life?-

Pepper nods to herself. -And apparently accepts it enough to stay even when he added the mess that _had_ to come with him announcing publicly he was Ironman. That's why this pairing works to write. On a logical level it makes sense.-

"One a real level too..." Tony mutters aloud. "Mind explaining to me why in hell we're _not_ dating?"

-But to further answer your original question...I guess the Pepper in my head isn't ready to get closer the sex question than a few hot, _private_, daydreams. And I can only write what I think she feels.-

-Understood.- Tony types back, this time a little somberly. -Didn't mean to be an ass. I do take your point.-

-No worries. Go get your soup and eat it before it gets cold.-

-Yes, Ma'am.-

Tony carefully pushes himself out of his chair – the sofa had been tempting, but ultimately too painful to get out of still – and limps carefully into the kitchen, favoring his right side and the cracked ribs.

'Well, this is a fine kettle of fish,' he tells himself as he pokes around in a cabinet. Somewhere he's got soup mugs; he'd rather sip at his soup than try to type and use a spoon. 'Pepper has private daydreams about me.' Hot ones – that she has no intention of turning into a reality. Even as strange a reality as a website. At least, not yet. She felt pursued, but not because she had an intrinsic worth outside of the novelty of her resistance. And she counted him as a friend, so she wasn't even going to hold him against him.

He's no further into trying to figure out if he should fess up to his deception or let it play out longer and let her figure it out on her own than he'd been earlier in the day.

Tony transfers his soup into a mug and tears a hunk off a baguette in a way that will make Pepper roll her eyes tomorrow, and makes his slow way back to his computer.

-So,- he types as he waits for his soup to cool down a little. -The question I guess, is does Potts want to be chased? What happens if he stops chasing her? Does she take it as a sign that he's lost interest, or does it become a sign that he's respecting what he thinks are her wishes?-

Pepper shrugs. -I suppose it depends on how you define 'stops chasing.' His whole life has completely changed in the last few months...and by extension, hers as well. I doubt she has a clue what to make of his behavior if it has shifted recently. If his manner changes _again_ she'd probably assume it's the next step in the process.-

-Process? There's a process now?-

-Of grief. You have to remember the man was held hostage three months. There has to be a certain amount of natural blow-back from that-

-Wait. You think he's making changes in his life because he's grieving?- Tony stares uncomprehendingly at the screen. Out of all the reasons why Pepper would hold herself back from something she can clearly envision, consideration for his feelings hadn't even crossed his mind.

-Well, I don't _know_ what he thinks. I mean, the man built a suit of armor. Don't you think that's indicative of wanting to keep from being hurt?-

Tony raises an eyebrow. -God, you see everything as metaphor! When is a cigar just a cigar?-

-When it's not smoked in the middle of a radical lifestyle and career change? I mean, he's already gone the fast cars and loose women route, so if this is a midlife crisis or something…-

Tony opens his mouth and closes it. -God, is this how deeply _all_ women think?-

Pepper snorts, -What? You're saying you wouldn't be a little unnerved by a _total_ change of behavior in one of your friends? Especially if it happened after a potentially traumatic situation? I mean honestly, Turbo, how many changes can _anyone_ make healthily all at once?-

Pepper waits for a response and doesn't get one. So she slowly adds, -From times he's been in the news since then, she's the only one ever mentioned as being with him. I get the feeling he can't afford to lose her support, and she has to be smart enough to know that. Sometimes getting what you want means waiting for the right time. Sometimes it's the path the pursuit takes that's more important than being chased.-

Time to break out the ice cream before she breaks out in something else at the memory of just how badly Tony's delivery and timing of his "superhero's girlfriend" speech sucked. The only way he could have made it worse way by telling her beforehand that he was going to announce his supposedly secret identity to the entire world on live television.

-You know, sometimes I'm beginning to think that there's no one stupider in the world than a genius,- Turbo finally types back.

Pepper frowns. -That's unnecessarily harsh. Life has to have some kind of balance. I mean to have someone who was good at _everything_ – now that'd be _really_ annoying.- The admonishment is marked by a winking smiley face.

Tony chuckles. -I guess so. And I guess he can be excused, if everything you say is right. I mean, no one's written the book 'How to Recognize Your Soul Mate in 12 Easy Steps.' _Then_ he'd be without excuse.-

A pause... -Actually they sell that title on .-

Tony goggles.

Then. -LOL! I so _totally_ had you.-

-Did not.- Tony can't help but roll his eyes at his own quick rebuttal.

-Whatever, Turboman. So tell me, if I'm a woman and making all of this far more complicated than it has to be, then what's the simple MALE answer? Why the midlife crisis scenario: the suit that stands in for the fast cars and the assistant that stands in for the cheap women? I mean, I guess the whole powersuit thing is really just a surface change. An adrenaline junkie is an adrenaline junkie, after all. And if you just glance at some of his about faces in behavior, they even appear healthy. But that's all that's ever seen of anyone, I suppose: what's on the surface. There's got to be a toll to these changes though, even if it's just physical – and I very much I doubt we're only talking about a PHYSICAL toll here – and if anyone is going to see it, she is. I suppose in my head, that's where Pepper draws the line.-

It's a bewildering amount of words, only loosely configured into an order that makes sense. Tony shakes his head. Pepper's worried…but for the life of him, he can't exactly figure out why. Or for what. -Was there a question in there?-

-Yes. No. I don't know.- Pepper sighs and tries to make herself a little more coherent. It's hard though, because Tony's always had a knack for making her completely incoherent. -Men see a problem and they fix it, right? They fix the symptom of whatever's wrong and if there's time, they try to figure out what caused the problem.-

-For the most part, yeah. I take it you think that's a bad thing? I've heard more than once that for women it's more about empathy...- Tony feels a bit like he's stumbling in the dark, but he's determined to keep trying.

This stuff...this topic…obviously matters to Pepper. The fact it does is clearly evidenced not only in the fact that she brought it up, but the fact that she's rambling. She just doesn't DO that unless she's emotionally off kilter.

-Yeah.- Pepper sighs to herself. She doesn't know how much she can say without sounding like a crazy person. -This is all theoretical, of course.-

"Of course." Tony mutters sardonically... -So if Potts is worried about why he's done what he's done have you ever considered letting her actually ask him? What he thinks about any of the things he's done I mean. Unless you're going to suddenly go AU on me, it's not like either of them is capable of reading the others' mind.-

Pepper smiles, a little sadly. Tony knows exactly what to say to get her to go along with whatever plan he's concocted. He always has. -He's a public figure. He must be used to saying what people want to hear.-

-You're assuming he knows what that is. Which I tend to think may be doubtful in this case, given what I've seen of his personal history. Kids who start college at twelve aren't likely to have the most traditional relationship history.-

-I guess that's true.- Pepper makes a face at herself. It's way past time to rein the conversation in. -I put a lot of thought into things that have nothing to do with me, don't I?-

Tony grits his teeth as he stares at the computer screen. So close! But she's going to back away from it, even here. Back away from the core of what's really bothering her because while Turbo has her trust in one way, he's also Stark deficient and so is automatically blacklisted from hearing the full truth. It's frustrating as hell and heartening at the same time. At least she's not saying anything about him behind his back that she won't say to his face.

'I guess it's time to lighten the mood again.' -You're interested in people and relationships...it's an innocent enough fixation.- Tony grins before adding, - Either way, its more dignified than tentacle sex.-

Pepper loved that any time things got tense or too heavy, Turbo brought up tentacle sex. It was ridiculous in the extreme and always lightened the mood.

-I guess this leaves me no choice. I'm going to have to run up to Tony Stark, shake him by the lapels, and demand to know what he's thinking.-

Tony snorts at that image, though part of him wishes she would. That at least would be progress. -What if he's not wearing a shirt at the time? Are you gonna resort to chest hair?-

-Ears.-

Tony winces. "Ouch." -Sad. Not nearly as kinky.-

-If I'm not going to write smut, then I'm certainly not going to enact it.-

"I hope that's a lie," Tony mutters to himself. He doesn't think he's up to that kind of challenge, especially at the moment. -You'd brighten up his whole week.-

-I'm sure.-

He can imagine the dry tone Pepper's voice would take on…if they were having a real, face to face kind of conversation instead of a digital proxy. -I mean it. The man's personal life lately is looking pretty damn lonely. Being attacked by a demented fan girl would probably be a nice ego rub.-

-Believe it or not, I have other goals in life than to be any man's arm candy.-

-I doubt you could MANAGE being just that…which I mean as a compliment by the way. As for Stark, life is always a lot easier for a guy when we can do most of our thinking with just our dicks.-

Pepper, caught in the midst of taking a sip of water, actually snorts her drink out her nose.

-I can't believe you just SAID that!-

-It's true,- Tony insists. -You have to admit that in this day and age, the whole enlightened male shtick is a lot of work. Most guys are already bumbling in the dark when it comes to offering comfort to our better halves. Add in all the trigger happy women around, ready to slap a man with a sexual harassment lawsuit, and there's not a lot of room left for misunderstandings. Even if Stark wanted to make a move on Potts, he's probably just as scared as she is of upsetting the balance. -

-What's the matter, Mr. Caveman? Getting homesick for your cave?-

-That's a no.- Tony shakes his head. -But I'm giving up on the myth that a man's home is his castle.-

-Aww Sad. :-P So What is it then?-

-Right now? Kinda empty, to tell the truth.- No clacking heels, no slightly off-key humming, no quiet murmur of Pepper on the phone.

-I hear you there.- She really would have preferred to stay another night or two at Tony's.

-Look no offense but I need to go kind of early tonight. I haven't gotten much sleep for the past couple of days.-

-Sweet dreams. Hopefully I'll talk to you again soon.-

Tony waits till she signs out then carefully stands to go find his own bed. He was right about one thing for sure – the house with Pepper gone isn't the same. It's less comforting and far, far too quiet.

"Jarvis, pull up any stories Pepper put online in the last couple of days. Transfer to my tablet." Tony carefully undresses and climbs into bed. There's two bottles of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen on his nightstand.

"Affirmative, Sir."

He groans loudly as he reaches for the painkillers, relieved that he finally _can_ now that Pepper's left. Doing so with her around brought her running, concern and what he thought might be the remnants of anger in her big blue eyes. Normally that wasn't a problem; he'd joke with her, or shamelessly submit to her hovering presence because sometimes it was _nice_ to be mothered, or if he was in a bad mood he might even remind her that he'd been blown up multiple times and that allowed him the right to bitch and moan in his own bedroom if that's what he wanted to do.

But what wasn't normally a problem had become so quickly the first time he'd almost made a comment that she would have understood once she got past the initial confusion of his knowing about something that she'd told Turbo and not Tony.

There's a single link on his screen once he relaxes back into the pillows enough to focus on something other than his aching ribs. He's a little surprised. He'd been gone long enough to allow her to post more than one story. However, he also knows a little about how Pepper writes now. She goes on "writing jags" as she'd put it, pouring out pages and pages of material in a matter of hours. And then she spends several days to several weeks polishing them, perhaps splitting them into multiple stories. A reasonable conclusion to reach, therefore, was that she usually had a backlog of stories that were ready to be posted online. Except, now she was talking to Turbo most evenings instead of focusing on her stories. Maybe her backlog was getting scarce, and rather than run out of material completely, she was pacing herself as she worked on other stuff.

Or maybe talking to Turbo was starting to take over whatever cathartic release the stories had provided. Was it arrogant of him to assume that? Not that it mattered; he was going to keep reading whatever it was she had to say, whether she said it to him (him-as-Turbo) or to the online populace in general.

He clicks on the link, allowing his eyes to adjust to the font on the page.

"_No meetings?"_

_He's far too suspicious for a man who sets his own schedule. I only keep track and make sense of the damn thing so he's never double booked. "No meetings. No projects due and your fridge, freezer and pantry are full. Pizza is on speed dial 2."_

_He still looks suspicious. "Because...?"_

"_I want to be able to get though my next four days at the spa unmolested."_

_He relaxes instantly, changing from a suspicious man to one far too amused to bode well for anyone. "Well, that doesn't sound like fun."_

"_Unmolested by YOU."_

"_That DEFINITELY doesn't sound like fun. Are you sure this is a vacation?"_

"_For the record after the last four months, three days of sleeping in sounds heavenly, thank you. I have no schedule and three new books."_

"_Romance novels?" he asks hopefully._

"_Mr. Stark, after this last week, sex is the last thing on my mind," I say pointedly, with a hard and highly meaningful look. Not that it makes any sort of impact at all. "I opted for a historical novel, a comedy, and a vampire mystery instead. They'll do just fine after my daily massage."_

"_Vampires, kinky."_

_*sshhhhhttt*_

_I have the sudden image of two fencers stuck in my head. Innocent words become the foil in his hand, but the form is perfect and the intent clear no matter how blunted the instrument. Somehow this just became more than idle flirting, and I really don't know how to parry his sudden attack other than to play along. Sometimes beating him at his own game is the __only__ way to get him to stop. _

"_You have your vices. I'm allowed to have mine."_

_He's intrigued of course, by the mention that I might have any vices besides a penchant for collecting overtime. "Have you ever thought that our vices might get along well, Pepper?"_

_The conversational foils slide along each other again, undeterred by my attempt at a subtle defense. I can feel the slight rasp in my throat as my mouth goes a little dry. There's a little something MORE in his question than there normally is. Not more…lascivious. Just more…intent. As if the answer matters and is going to set him off on a new course of action, and I'm actually intimidated by what that course of action might be._

_Forget playing along. It's too dangerous when he's in this mood. And he's in it more and more often now. Time away from each other can only do us good. It's strange to contemplate taking more time off so soon, but my birthday is next month and it's on a Thursday. Maybe I'll make a four day weekend of it._

"_Pepper?" There's not a hint of awkwardness in that voice. Just awareness that I'm off my stride and that damn intent that overrides the wry twist to his lips._

_If he won't give up, then I'll be the one to raise my mask and end the match._

"_Daily, Mr. Stark. That's why I keep denying our forbidden love. Will that be all?"_

_I keep calm as he studies me. He might be in the mood to play, but this is one game I will NOT engage in. And he can see it. Thankfully he lets me have my way…without pouting. "That will be all. Try to do at least one thing I would while you're gone."_

"_Leggy blonds aren't my thing, Mr. Stark.'_

"_I'm glad. You need a brunette at your side to make your coloring pop." He waves his hand at me in dismissal after making that last riposte…a dismissal I accept all too gladly._

_I need to leave before the observation that he's a brunette means something._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Well, clearly seeing IM 2 was the kind of inspiration that 4persephone and I needed, as this is the third story we're updating in less than 24 hours. Though, I must admit that sym and n1f here have been sitting around mostly finished for more weeks than either of us will admit. But here is your n1f fix, so you can stop sending the death threats to my dear compadre. *wink* Though I did tell her that I enjoy the part of the review system where I get the compliments and she gets the threats for more.

* * *

_There are things we talk about and things we don't. Barriers we shore up so that we can continue to be what we are to one another..._

_Of course there's also the stuff we don't talk about because, frankly speaking, you're a _pig_._

_Like that shirt on your bedroom floor? It's been there nearly three days...a precise _fiveinches_ from the laundry shoot. Don't even get me started on the ring of beard and mustache trimmings that wind up in the sink._

_Service announcement, Stark - I don't want to _know_ how the pale yellow silk panties ended up in your freezer! So please refrain from sharing while dishing us each up a bowl of ice cream at one o'clock in the morning during Major Report Week... _

_You have no grasp _at all_ of how much overtime you're supplying to my therapist._

The alarm on Pepper's BlackBerry goes off, pulling her back from her writing. Looks like her lunch break is over. 'No rest for the weary,' she acknowledges with a small groan. The contents of her and Tony's inboxes isn't going to magically shrink if she keeps on ignoring them. Not any more than the low grade ache in her lower back.

She looks at what she wrote, frowns a bit, then hits the 'x' in the corner of the window without adding more or saving the file. It's official...no more writing vignettes in the middle of epic-level PMS.

It's just…she's desperate to write something new. Something meaningless. Because her stories are slowly reaching the point of no return. She's been patient, and good, and posting things in order and she's run out of any stories that take place before Afghanistan. Pretty soon she won't be showing people stories that dance around things, but ones that slog through messy topics and emotions. She wants to skip it altogether, but people are already asking in reviews why she hasn't covered the one event that makes Tony Stark a figure worth writing about in the first place. She hasn't mentioned Afghanistan, she's never written about Iron Man, and she's never even used the word hero except in Tony's dialogue.

And now she's circled around and around and around the topic until it seems as if it's all anyone is interested in anymore, because if her run of the mill stories are so "awesome," then what could she do with "really sensational material."

But for her, the only sensations those times cause are of worry and grief. And one bright, blinding moment of joy before chaos became the SOP.

Writing a bitchy PMS-ing piece almost seems like a better option.

She works through the inboxes and is almost an hour into culling the bi-monthly departmental memos by order of importance – interesting, boring but necessary, he'll never read it in a million years – when the seat next to her jostles a bit and a steaming mug is more or less thrust in her face.

"It's decaf," Tony assures her when she stares blankly at the mug. "Come on, we both know your blood sugar's taking a nosedive right now. You didn't even notice when I asked if you wanted a snack."

Pepper takes the mug as she scoots her laptop off onto the couch on her other side. "This is that chocolate raspberry tea I've been trying to find for ages," she almost accuses after taking her first sip. If he's managed to track down a flavor of tea she'd thought had been discontinued, then he's about to ask her for something _big_.

He shrugs and hopes she takes his words at face value because no matter what he tells her, that tea had _not_ been easy to find. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to have a stash tucked away for the occasional pick me up." She raises an eyebrow. He just shrugs again and asks to move the conversation away from anything he might have done, "So...what's on the schedule...for the rest of the afternoon? Anything interesting?"

"Memos," she says, handing him a stack of file folders nearly an inch thick. "Those are just the ones I've printed out so far." She takes another cautious sip of her tea and stares at the cinnamon cranberry bagel spread with cream cheese that sits on the table in front of her. "What do you want?"

"Wow." Tony carefully leans back into the sofa and lets out a deep sigh. "Paranoid much, Potts? Talk about a loaded question."

"Yeah well, you're being _nice_ to me."

"This is a _bad_ thing?"

"Bad, no. Suspicious, yes. Don't even get me started on the Spain incident." The last time he was "nice" to her he'd conned her into something that ended...interestingly.

Tony rolls his eyes. "You're going to have to stop holding that against me, eventually. Besides, it wasn't as if you didn't get something out of it." He rubs his face and takes a sip of his own - caffeinated - coffee. "I'm starting to get a little stir crazy. And while normally, I'd take one of the bikes out for a spin..." He winces at just the thought. "My ribs just won't take it at the moment."

Her face slides into something that may actually be sympathy. "You could always call up Rhodey and challenge him to a death match on the Gamecube or something..."

'Don't _want_ to hang out with Rhodey,' Tony's inner voice whined... 'Want you to play hooky so I can play hooky with _you_.'

Turbo was bored with paperwork...and to tell the truth, so was Fanny. He _knows_ that she hates "death by papercut" Thursdays...had watched her type about it for half an hour last night. And the worst of it was, there wasn't a single thing on the task list that couldn't stand to wait. Hell, she'd admitted that _herself_. Not that he was supposed to _know_ that.

He looks at the stack of file folders sitting on his knee and at the computer sitting at her side. What if tonight he could persuade her to stay and talk to him instead of going home to let their alter egos take the heat?

"How about I agree that I will read these on one condition."

The way Pepper immediately tenses is a little amusing, but more so, it's an example of the kinds of conditions and compromises and deals he usually makes.

"I will read these _and_ anything else you decide to print out. However, _you_ are going to take a break and eat your bagel. And then you're going to order something in for dinner and we're going to have a battle royale to decide which of us is the better robber baron." Her blank look makes him shake his head. "I might be able to excuse you for never having heard of 'Operation,' but it's downright un-American to have never heard of 'Monopoly.'"

"You want to play a board game?" she questions in disbelief.

"Not just _any_ board game." Tony is quick to correct her. "The Antique Cars Edition that Rhodey brought over for me recently."

Pepper snorts. "That was meant as a White Elephant gift, you know."

"No...the homemade IronMaid deck he taped to the top of the box was meant to fill that function."

Pepper finally gives in and reaches for her snack. "You'd be a much richer man if you'd let your attorneys start the process getting a trademark for your alter-ego, you know."

"True enough…I suppose that a portion of the proceeds could be set aside for charity." He pouts a little. "I still can't believe you can't find any more of the _good_ Iron Man lunchboxes..."

Pepper's lips quiver in what may be a firmly repressed smile. "We've been over this before with the bobbleheads, Tony: it's not my fault when high demand items end up running out of stock."

"So call up the manufacturer..."

"I did."

"And?"

"They said they're netting much bigger profits from manufacturing paraphernalia for the Twilight franchise at present. They're not really interested in producing another lot."

Tony blinks. "You're telling me I'm losing out in sales to a whiny teenage girl and a _sparkly vampire_?"

Pepper stares at him for a moment. "You know more about Twilight than I expected you to."

"I might have...err...accidentally downloaded the movie..."

"That doesn't explain why you watched it."

Tony gets a little red. "Okay changing the subject..."

"Just tell me you don't have High School Musical or Camp Rock anywhere in this house..."

"Camp what?"

Pepper's lips quirk. "Thank God. Are you sure you don't need to spend a few hours doing something a bit more manly than playing board games?"

It's the kind of opening Tony would normally let slide, and exactly the kind of opening that he suspects Turbo is expected to take advantage of. "Well, I can think of a few things that you and I could do together that'd require more testosterone than Monopoly, but they're not the sort of thing you normally volunteer for." He waggles his eyebrows at her as he waits for a response. Is Pepper or Fanny going to pick up the gauntlet?

From the spark in her eye it looks like Fanny's the one who opens her mouth to say something, but it's Pepper who closes it and focuses on the pile of file folders on his knee. "Even if I were going to stay late tonight for games and junk food, you'd still need to read through and sign off on the paperwork."

"Pen." He takes a clipboard and scrawls his signature where she's marked. "Since it's my game I get first pick, and I want to be the Scotty."

Pepper raises an eyebrow at that. "As opposed to the automobile?"

He waves his hand, "Can't always be _that_ predictable you know. You'd get bored if I did."

Pepper sips her tea and thinks to herself that she wouldn't mind if he were occasionally just a little more predictable. "Fine, but I get the top hat. Now scoot. It's only three o'clock. We can both get at least two more hours in."

He grumbles. "Like there's anything either of us really _needs_ to be doing this close to end of day."

Pepper raises as eyebrow, "Last I checked, department memos are necessary..."

"Yes, but ones for a meeting five weeks from now are not."

"Those memos for the meetings next month are each department's best chance to entice you into actually making an appearance." No matter how calmly the words are said, Pepper still colors... "Besides, I...um...need to recheck for email."

"Waiting on something important?" He quirks an eyebrow as he asks.

Pepper tosses her head and says lightly - though with a touch of defiance. "Not that it's any of your business, but I have something like a standing date with an online friend to chat most Thursdays."

"Ahhhhh." It's amazing how much meaning he can pack into just one simple word.

"It's not what you think."

"Mmm-hmm." Two syllables or less seem to work best. In his experience, Pepper-babble tends to reveal far more than prodding.

Her eyes narrow in his direction. "I'd think you'd be adult to realize that men and women are capable of talking without wanting to get into each other's pants." Then she mutters, almost too quietly for him to hear, "After all, we're in the same boat."

He ignores the tag for the time being, focusing on the first part of her defense. "I never said anything about anyone's pants."

"You didn't need to. Your tone did," she mutters.

"Actually _I_ had assumed your friend was a woman." He lies back dryly.

"Well, since we're using internet handles, maybe they are. But man or woman, they're a good conversationalist and that's all that really matters." Pepper sniffs, and picks up her laptop with an air of determination.

Not that Tony's particularly ready to pick up on the cue.

"So...." He perches himself on the edge of the table expectantly...

"So?"

"Tell me more...what's this friend of yours like...?"

"No. Last I checked this is not a made for TV movie and you're not my BFF."

"Yes, but you're a valuable asset, Pepper. Can't have you getting your heart broken by some creep you met online." What will she say to that? Will she defend him? Or rather, Turbo? Does he want her to? Once again he's struck uncertain by how important he really wants his alter-alter-ego to be to her.

"Turbo's really more of a geek than a creep..."

"You're hanging out with someone named _Turbo_?" He has to make himself react the way he would if he weren't the guy at the other end. Though the sentiment isn't totally false; his pleasure at being defended is equally balanced by hearing himself being called a geek.

"I told you, it's an IM handle. He likes fast cars, thus his name." Pepper stares at her computer screen - glares at it, actually - and pounds on the keyboard a little harder than strictly necessary.

"And what's he like? How did the two of you meet?"

"God, could you sound anymore like a big brother?" Pepper snorts in response.

"No offense, Pep, but I don't exactly think of you as my baby sister." The words come shooting out of his mouth before he can even consider them.

Pepper's fingers pause their staccato tapping, though she doesn't look up from the screen. It seems his brief moment of honesty has frozen her in place. It's starting to look like that's her natural response to his being honest.

"It's harmless..." she finally says. "He just interjects an occasional slice of humor into the end of my day."

Apparently ignoring the comment outright seems to be her current strategy. He shouldn't be surprised. Shouldn't be frustrated. But he is. He wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and ask just what the hell it's going to take for her to look at him and see someone worth taking a chance on.

He settles for running one hand through his hair and finishing his coffee. "I hope that you're being careful, despite the elation your nighttime chats are causing. I can't tell you the number of times I've heard complete wackos described as being 'such a nice guy.'" He already _knows_ she's being careful, but she doesn't know he knows, and he wants _her_ to know that her safety matters to him.

Her smile's a little wry. "In case you haven't noticed, my picture's in the dictionary next to the word careful, Tony."

"Good." He stands up, cup in hand. "I'd hate to have to take time out of my heavily supervised schedule in order to train a new you. If doing so is even possible."

Peppers snorts, mutters something under her breath that causes Tony to fight back a cough. It sounds suspiciously like "You're misrepresenting who exactly trained who..."

Feeling just a little bit lighter since that was the kind of comment he'd expect from Fanny, Tony says, "Well, I'll leave you to it then. Be warned though, come five o'clock, I'm dragging you downstairs for our battle royale." Perhaps with a beer or two in her, she'll be more accommodating in the snark department.

"Kiss Park Place goodbye," she warns as he disappears from view.

"Arrogance. Fall," he hollers back.

That's the last thing either of them say till the takeout arrives.

* * *

"Park Place...with a hotel...that comes to...more than you have in cash." She looks over his property cards thoughtfully. "But we can discuss real estate..."

"I thought you'd never played this game," Tony mopes, just the faintest bit pathetically.

"I never said that. I reacted in surprise when you mentioned that you wanted to play what is traditionally a slow-moving and occasionally tedious game. You're the one who assumed I hadn't played before." Pepper finishes off her second beer of the night. "Now. We can discuss terms for your unconditional surrender, or we can do this the hard way."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly does the hard way entail? So I can make an informed choice..."

Pepper's lips quirk. "We drag this out for every agonizing second until I own everything in your possession, including a few things outside of the game set."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren'tcha? I've got a pretty good amount of my own property up ahead."

"At the rate this game has been going, I'd have to land on each of your properties twice to be in the state you are now." Pepper fans herself with a stack of 100s.

"I'm starting to think you missed your calling, Potts. You'd make a killing in real estate."

"Instead I make a killing for you." She shrugs. "Now lets see those properties, Stark. You still owe me $250."

"I'll give you my two railroads. You'll make more in rent when you have the full set."

It's the property she would have asked for, but having it offered to her out of hand is a little unnerving. "That sounds suspiciously like a concession." Pepper stands and takes her empty bottle over to the kitchenette. Placing it into the recycling bin, she starts up the espresso machine.

He frowns a little. "You're having coffee at this hour? You'll never sleep tonight."

"Got to start sobering up enough to drive...it's already nearly 9 pm."

Tony frowns harder and rearranges his properties since they're all he has left, especially if she leaves. "Live a little, Potts. Nine is not late. And if you really think your driving abilities are impaired, I have more than enough guest bedrooms to accommodate you."

"I really shouldn't ..."

It's more of a concession than he'd been expecting, and it spurs him on. "Why not? We both know you have a spare suit in your trunk and it'll spare you a long drive before our hideously early start tomorrow morning."

Pepper snorts at that description. "Tony, 7:45 is _not_ that bad..."

"Sure, if you go to bed before 9 PM it's not," he teases. "Some of us have lives, Pepper."

"Of course, sir. How could I have missed that?" She looks pointedly around the messy shop, almost making Tony break out in delighted laughter.

He _loves_ her snarky side, more than it would be healthy for him if she knew. "Seriously, Potts...if you're tipsy enough to need coffee, you're tipsy enough it'd probably be wiser to crash here...especially on a major league ball night. Every idiot and their brother's gonna be leaving the stadium about now to get drunk..."

Pepper's mouth tightens as she looks at the espresso machine, but Tony knows it's the propriety of staying over that has her hesitating, not an actual dislike of his company.

Finally – it seems like an eternity that she keeps him waiting – she shuts the machine down and turns. "If I hear one word about you making breakfast for me in the morning, I'll just wait until everyone's home before I leave."

"I don't cook breakfast," he shoots back dryly. "I _blend_."

She snorts. "I stand corrected." She grabs another beer out of the mini fridge and comes back to the table. "So can I ask a weirdish question...?"

"You can ask..."

"Why the sudden 180 on wanting company? I mean last week you couldn't wait to get rid of me. Practically booted me out the door at 6 pm."

To Pepper's surprise Tony went suddenly, radiantly pink. "Like I said, some of us have lives." Not terribly exciting lives, but lives nonetheless. "So do we agree my railroads are a fair trade, or do you want to throw in my firstborn as well."

"I'd consider a straightforward answer a fair trade," Pepper murmurs, taking a sip from her drink. And just like that, the evening isn't about the game anymore. Or at least, not about the board game. Verbal games are something else entirely. "You're honestly telling me that you have a life now?" Her voice holds distinct skepticism.

"Maybe it's not exciting and glamorous as it used to be, but it's also a lot less cluttered with empty pursuits and vacuous hangers-on." Tony can't help but feel just a little defensive. Getting Fanny's honesty over an internet connection is a hell of a lot different than sitting across from a very calm Pepper Potts as she starts poking at the life he's trying to build for himself. You'd think she'd appreciate better than anyone his restraint in finding company.

"I'm not criticizing, Tony...I know and _respect_...the changes you're making. But You've also been Quasimodoing so unless..." Her eyes narrow. "Wait a minute..."

"What?"

Her eyes narrow then she smirks. "There'd be signs around the house unless…_you've_ found yourself an E-friend."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony picks up the dice and throws them, despite the fact that it's Pepper's turn. However, as he doesn't really want the night to end with Pepper storming out of the house – it suddenly strikes him how very upset Pepper might get about his alter ego – the best strategy seems to be to forge ahead.

Redirect.

Obfuscate.

"Let me guess...techgeek group? Automotive advice community?"

He puts his nose up in the air. Sniffs. Reaches desperately for the first excuse his mind can conjure. "Haiku writing group actually."

Pepper blinks. "_Haiku_?"

"Jarvis got me interested."

"Indeed, Mr Stark is quite talented at the genre..." The AI inserts generously.

"_Haiku?"_

"We're allowed hidden depths, Ms Potts. I may not share much of my stuff, but I feedback generously." It was technically true. Wrong literary forum, but true.

He glances up at Pepper through the fall of overgrown hair that covers his eyes as he bends over the board to move. She's studying him, and not because he's moving out of turn. Her eyes are sharp, but apparently the corroboration from Jarvis is enough to keep her from pursuing the line of questioning.

"So do you actually tell anyone you meet online who you are, Tony?"

"Does anyone?"

"You know what I mean."

He shrugs. "Sometimes even I enjoy a little anonymity." She keeps looking at him. "What? Tony Stark can't even pretend he's a regular, boring old Joe?"

"This from the man whose official theme song was practically Wagner's 'Flight of the Valkyries'?"

If he were in the mood to be tickled by her whimsy – very _apt_ whimsy – he'd find this conversation amusing. Instead he snipes back, "I prefer Holtz's 'Mars - God of War,'" and tries not be stung by the truth behind the words. Then he sighs because Pepper's face is open and free of condemnation. "You know, I doubt you grasp how jealous I could be of 'normal' people sometimes."

"No ego there, Stark..."

"This has nothing to do with my brain, Potts. Hell, it has nothing to do with my money."

"Does it have anything to do with not being able to follow the script?"

"It's about being known...or at least having it assumed that I'm known, by frickin' _everbody_."

"But you've never does anything to avoid the spotlight, Tony!" Pepper sounds...exasperated. Not upset with him, and not judgmental, but there's a good dose of "this is how it is" in her voice. "You couldn't even manage the secret identity part that's de rigueur for every other superhero."

"I never had the chance to. I've always been Tony _Stark_. I've never gotten to be just Tony." He shrugs. "I mean for god sakes I was six when I first landed in popular mechanics. _Six_. And it didn't stop there. Make a name for yourself or they'll make it for you. I learned that much early." He shrugs. "At least online if people decide I'm an ass its because they've actually interacted with me."

He knows that he's whining, hates that he's whining. But it doesn't make it any less true on some level. At least when he's Turbo on some level he's essentially unshackled. A person he wants to be.

A shameless flirt. A car lover. And apparently, a geek.

"That difference must be stunning." Pepper smiles and kicks him lightly under the table. "But seriously, Tony. You need to get out more. I don't care if you take to donning blond wigs and skulking around the corner Starbucks. I worry about you all alone up here in this house."

"I always thought I look better as a brunette actually."

"Tony..." Her tone holds the slightest bit of warning.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Point taken. Would you go on and roll again already."

"Point taken or point disliked?" She picks up the dice and holds them in her hand. When Tony refrains from saying anything else she sighs and rolls the dice. "Just be careful about cyber sex...you put out and they lose all respect." The warning should be teasing; they sounds resigned. Not that she actually thinks he'd engage in cybersex - the man never did _anything_ halfway. But she can tell a losing battle when she sees one.

If he were really upset, he'd shift headquarters to New York or something, rather than staying in what is arguably the paparazzi capital of the world.

He might be upset about something, and a lack of privacy or a surplus of notoriety might even have something to do with it. But there was a root cause here somewhere that he wasn't willing to discuss, even with her.

She rolls the dice and move. Community Chest. Yet again. Tony stares in disbelief. "Okay, I don't know how, but _no way_ you're not cheating..."

"The word you're looking for, Stark, is 'lucky.'"

"Lucky. Really. You ought to tell me how I can...get lucky." This at least is firmer ground. Tony knows just how to flirt with Pepper in order to get her to splutter and blush.

She steadies herself with another sip of beer. "You just needs a good...chest..." She finally responds back.

'Well helloooooooooooooo, Fanny.'

Tony makes it his mission for the rest of the evening to get as many risqué comebacks as possible from his lovely assistant.

"'nother beer?" he asks as he gets to his feet.

* * *

"Okay, friends don't let friends drive drunk." Tony snatches the set of keys out of Pepper's hand – an action that only proves his suspicions to be true. Normally Pepper was too fast for him, her cat-like reflexes bred from years of dodging pawing hands. And no, they hadn't always been his own.

Ignoring her protests about propriety and appearances, he steers her out of the garage and towards the small elevator because he didn't really want to test her sobriety on the stairs.

"I am _not_ drunk." Her words are just slightly slurred, "I am at the very worst _mildy_ intoximicated..."

"Mmm-hmmm. I'm sure that excuse would fly with the police. So we'll spare them option. What I can't figure out is how I lost so badly to a lush." Tony has to steady Pepper as the elevator starts to move. The hand on his arm at first grips tightly, but has somehow turned to an absent minded caress by the time they reach the second floor.

"Mmm...anybody ever tell you that for a guy you have _really_ nice skin?"

"Just the ones trying to get me into bed." And the irony here was that getting her into bed was his goal at the moment. Just without any company.

She snickers at that honesty. "Seriously…really nice tone. You must use a lot of extra lotion or something."

It's true...the shop tends to dry out his hands and arms, both from the chemicals and the heat of his soldering tools. He has to wash off grease and apply aloe-infused body butter with a fair amount of regularity. Not that he'd ever admit to wearing something _called_ aloe infused body-butter.

"Gotta have smooth hands if you're going to glad hand anyone," he agrees smoothly as he escorts her out of the elevator. Her steps are more or less straight, and not the least bit wobbly even with her heels still on. It's a little scary really, because he's probably left this version of Pepper behind on numerous occasions at numerous parties for numerous other women.

"Okay, Ms. Potts. Here we are." Tony pauses outside the room Pepper uses on the infrequent occasions she does indeed need to stay over or change at his house for an event.

"Thanks for seeing me in, Mr. Stark. I had a lovely evening." The words are a mockery of what she might say to someone after a first date. Especially with the way her hand is still on his arm, still shifting back and forth in a maddening caress.

"Sleep well, Pep." The instinct to lean in and kiss her cheek is purely impulsive.

"You too." She doesn't move her feet, but somehow she's still much closer to him than she'd been just a moment before.

"What are you doing, Pepper?" Tony whispers, unable to look away from the eyes so close to his own. What she's doing is eviscerating him, because he wants this so much but not because her judgment might be impaired.

"I'm not sure," she admits.

He nods in response, and forces himself to step back. "Get some rest okay? We've both had a fair amount to drink."

He grins a little, "I'm declaring a rematch in the morning."

"Sure." She nods, though he can't tell if she's processing the words. Her eyes at least look as if the mind behind them is a million miles away. "Tony -"

"Pepper?" The hesitation costs him, but at least his reflexes don't fail him. He sees her coming, just like he's seen a thousand other women coming. And because she's more than a pair of legs he wants draped over his shoulders, he turns his face those few inches that are necessary to separate innocence and intimacy.

Her lips land on his cheek, and for the tiniest instant he think he hears her sigh. He certainly knows that _he_ sighs, mostly because of how good she feels.

Before he can truly capture the moment and lock it away in his cerebral cortex, Pepper's gone. Her ponytail actually flicks against his neck before the door to her guest room closes firmly.

He stares at the door, wondering where this unfamiliar impulse to be...chivalric...has come from. If he had any sense, he'd knock on the door and give her another chance to make both of them very happy. To give them both the chance not to be alone tonight..

Problem is, he needs her to be around for a lot longer than a single night.

"Sleep well, Pepper," he repeats to the empty hallway.

Or perhaps not so empty. From behind the closed door he can hear a faint reply. "Sleep well, Mr. Stark."

There's no one around to see his bittersweet smile - so they're back to 'Mr. Stark,' huh? - but Tony allows it to spread across his face anyway.

Perhaps he's made a bit more progress with Pepper than he'd thought. That in itself is enough to make him start plotting his next story with careful deliberation.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** first off, I just want to repeat just how awesome ALL of you guys are. Seriously, I'm so glad that my "one off" – I actually thought this story could be contained to 30 pages or so – "insane" drabble idea has been so much fun, both to write with 4persephone, my always patient partner in crime, and to hear back about from all of you.

Secondly, I think 4persephone and I have managed to tell ourselves a pretty good line about how this fic is going to end, so be looking for another 2-4 chapters for this one (though that could takes months to wrap up still).

* * *

Pepper hadn't meant to kiss Tony. This is a fact. However, it's about the only fact she has, other than the PAINFUL knowledge that he had turned his head when she attempted to kiss him on the lips. After all of Tony's flirting, and watching, and playful innuendo over the past couple of months, he'd still turned his head so that she'd only ended up kissing his cheek.

His reaction to her second attempt at a pass had left her absolutely mortified. Because seriously, she'd probably been the best offer he'd gotten in months.

'So much for his feelings not being brotherly.'

She doesn't know what to do, and that more than anything is what throws her off stride throughout the following day. Which is a nightmare, because between Tony's mixed signals and her own hesitance to admit what she WANTS his signals to be, she's a calm, cool, collected mask covering a slightly hung-over wreck. She's absolutely ruthless about keeping Tony on task and focused on work from the moment she emerges from her guestroom.

She finds Tony waiting for her with a cup of coffee and the air of a man about to plunge into a discussion he doesn't enjoy the thought of having. And after three failed attempts to engage her in conversation? Tony just apparently gives up and allows her to slip into her boarder collie routine.

She doesn't exactly give Lassie a run for her money.

Even so, by the time she finally clocks out Pepper is exhausted and has never been so glad to see the weekend. She actually stops and gets pizza for herself from her favorite joint – Purgatory Pizza – even though it adds an extra 45 minutes to her trip home. But it's been that kind of day and nothing is going to stand between her and hand-tossed, herb encrusted, pesto/sundried tomatoes/goat cheesy goodness.

Pepper arrives home, makes herself a blueberry pomegranate smoothie, then takes her supper into her bedroom where she changes into pajamas and climbs into bed with her laptop. It is time for some crucial decompression.

Seriously, her life has been one thing after another lately. It's almost enough to make her think about starting a blog. With all the Iron Man mania going on, it'd no doubt be a hit within weeks.

She logs on, notes the lack of chatting partners for the moment and eyes her writing folder contemplatively, not sure if she wants to open it and edit or just recycle the whole damn thing. She's fully aware it's why the lines in her life have become so…blurry…lately.

At the same time, these files are transcripts of the blood, sweat and tears that go into every single day of her life. They detail all the inner and outer turmoil that no one is allowed to see because Pepper Potts is immanently capable and cowed by nothing. Even if no one is able to recognize them for what they are, they are still a validation of her right to HAVE these feelings. The pissy, the cranky, the lovelorn... She's human and she has a right to express herself.

'You're also an adult who needs to find a better coping mechanism,' she tells herself as her cursor lingers over the little file folder icon.

It's in the midst of this dilemma that a window opens on her screen. -Rough day?- Turbo's inquiry cuts right to the point.

-How'd you guess?-

-Your status message was a good hint.- Turbo types back.

To be fair it does currently read "stupid. Stupid. STUPID."

-I think I'm losing my mind,- she replies after a moment, giving up on making a decision about her stories. -I'm seriously thinking about hanging up my writer's cap.-

-Wow. REALLY rough day then.- There's a long pause, during which Pepper eats more pizza and blinks at the screen, waiting for Turbo to say something else. -So am I allowed to ask what happened?-

-Other than me making a total IDIOT of myself? That friend I was hanging out with last night…? Also my only co-worker and my nominal boss. Kinda made a fool out of myself after having had one beer too many. Made a move on him without really intending to. And…hell, I don't know. I guess the way he flirts really is just habitual.-

-What kind of move?-

She sighs. -Felt up his arms and gave him a very off-target kiss.-

-And this is out of the ordinary for you?-

-Massively.- She gently bangs her head against the head board.

-Huh.- There's a short pause, then… -Could it be he just didn't want to take advantage of the situation if he thought you were tipsy? You said he's a friend right? That kind of thing is generally frowned upon according the top secret 'decent guy' syllabus...-

-One of those exist?-

-Yup...what do you think all we boys were doing in grade school while you ladies got lectures in hygiene?-

A little smile lifts one side of her lips -Clearly not being instructed on the dangers of using too much cologne.- Pepper, if she wanted to be sensible, could see the sense in Turbo's argument. But a smaller, far more vulnerable side of her protested that it was just a kiss. All she'd wanted was one little kiss.

-Only one thing to do then.-

-What?-

-Walk up to him, grab him by the lapels, shake him around a bit and then ASK him about it.-

-God no.- She types back emphatically, even as she's amused by the reference to some of their other conversations. 'No way in HELL.'

-Why not?- Tony frowns, is she afraid he'll laugh at her or something? Because that would bruise his pride a bit. With his friends at least he didn't generally try to be cruel.

-Because if there's one thing worse than getting turned down by a notorious playboy, then it's hearing why exactly you're being turned down.- She shudders instinctively. -God, how in hell does he manage to revert me back to a shy and gawky fifteen year old this way?-

-Fifteen?-

-Complete with bad acne.-

-I take it that was a particularly bad year for you?-

-Second worst of my life. My dad remarried and he, my stepmom and I moved to the West Coast when he took a promotion. I didn't know ANYONE. I think my teachers thought I was mute that first semester.-

-What makes you think he'd turn you down again? If you go to him sober I mean.- Turbo finally asks after a few minutes. -After all, if he's a "playboy" then your chances of getting a yes are probably stacked in your favor. Though what are you doing going after a playboy anyway, Fanny? I thought you had more sense than that.-

-What can I say...in this particular matter my heart apparently lacks my reason's better judgment.-

-Wait. Let me recap to make sure I have the facts straight. Last night you made a tipsy pass at someone you consider a friend, who turned you down for reasons unknown (though I would choose decency over disinterest), and despite the fact he's indicated he IS interested before, you believe that's since changed.- Across town Tony's also giving a good bit of attention to the fact that Pepper's heart plays into this, but he's determined to play it cool.

Pepper chews her lip. -Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. I guess.-

-Well then maybe you should hold off judgment until you either talk or you try making another pass at him. Just sayin'.-

She snorts, -And how exactly should I do that?-

-Make him cookies or something?- Pepper 'lols' at him. -What? Everybody likes baked goods…or are saying the freak doesn't even like home cooking?-

-He's not a freak- The statement is a little defensive.

-Of course, you could also try just calling him up and talking to him. My guess is distance and the weekend will help if he tells you sorry but you're more like a little sister to him.-

Pepper blushes. -Um no. We already covered that particular conversation.-

-And what did he say?-

-It's not fraternal on his side. I never clarified my stance.-

Tony snorts; only Pepper would consider two near kisses 'not clarified.' -Maybe that's something you should attempt before trying a more on target smooch. You can't assume he knows you don't feel sisterly either.-

-I'd agree with you there if this wasn't technically the second time that I almost kissed him.-

-Was there alcohol in the vicinity the first time too? Or anything else 'massively' out of the ordinary? You can't always assume that us guys can put two and two together, you know. We're far too distracted by all the other variables.-

She snorts aloud. -Okay I'll admit that the first time he was probably a bit distracted by the dress I was wearing.-

-?-

- It showed a little more than my typical amount of skin.-

Tony snorts before typing back, -For guys there's no such thing as "a little more" skin, Fanny. There's daily glimpses, and there's "Well now I can better imagine her naked."-

-I really didn't need to know that.- She pauses a moment, debating. -Technically he's ALREADY seen me once in almost nothing but skin.-

Tony blinks at that a little. "What? When? Where? How? Why?"

Unaware of the intense interest of her conversational partner, Pepper chews her lip before continuing. -Though to be fair, I highly doubt he remembers the particular occasion. We hadn't met yet at that point and I was only one of three or four DOZEN floor models at the Sport and Race Car Expo back in... God, it must have been either '95 or '96.-

-You MODEL?- Tony of course had known this particular bit of information, but Turbo was entitled to some shock. After all Turbo didn't even know exactly what Fanny looked like.

-Not anymore. I did so occasionally to help pay the bills while I was in college. Of course I was masquerading as a blond then – so it wouldn't be easy to spot me in the pictures these days unless you're actively looking. Besides, who looks at the faces of auto show models? It's about the cars and bikinis.-

Alone in his mansion, Tony's instructing Jarvis to do an image search for all photographs having to do with the 1994-1997 shows, just in case Pepper's off by a year either way. He does not remember this fabled meeting but he intends to correct that immediately. The idea of Pepper at that age is…intriguing.

-So you're a babe, huh? You never mentioned you were a babe. I'm not sure how to process this new information. You should send me a photo to drool over or something.-

-Hmmm. Are you gonna send me one in return? I haven't seen your picture either, you know.-

For a moment Tony considers it. Seriously. Then he shakes his head hard and goes for lightness instead, pulling up his Google browser. -Sure.- A moment later a picture of Clark Gable loads up onto her screen.

Pepper snorts. -Cute.- She sends him back a photo of Nicole Kidman in her strawberry blonde heyday.

-Oooh, you're a carrot top then. You got any freckles?-

-A few.- She grins as she types. -Though I'm pretty pasty these days. To be honest my job just doesn't leave me much time for sunbathing.-

-You should bring this up with your boss. If he's like any reasonable red-blooded male, he'll make sure to provide the time for it. And then when his shields are down, you can sneak in again and hopefully plant a successful one on him…- Pepper snorts as Turbo continues, -You know, this sounds a like a workable plan, Fanny.-

-Sure it does. If you live in a bad chick flick instead of the real world. God look at me, I'm seriously taking seduction advice from a guy who built/builds robots and reads about tentacle sex.-

Tony snorts, -I do not. I just mention it to make you squirm. Besides, it's MACHINE tentacle sex, thank you very much.-

She rolls her eyes. -Should I be comforted by that particular distinction?-

-Absolutely. What, you're telling me that you're not? *looks insulted.*-

She snorts again, and admits that for now at least her own emotional recriminations have passed. Turbo has actually provided a few bits of useful perspective.

-So is it now time for us to dissect YOUR romantic problems?-

Tony groans on his end. -It really depends.-

-On?-

-How hard would it be to get CA to change its laws on common-law marriage.-

She blinks at that then types back. -If you have a live in girlfriend, Turbo, then your bigger problem right now is probably all the time you spend talking to me in the evenings.-

-Nah…no girlfriend at present – though not for lack of trying. I have someone in my life that it sometimes feels like really ought to be more than just a co-worker.-

-Does she feel the same?-

-Not sure honestly. I mean there's definite 'spark' there, but I get the distinct feeling I'm just plain out of her league.-

-Ah a beauty and the beast situation then, or is it beauty and the geek instead?-

-Hey! For your information I have no where near that much hair.-

-Maybe you should talk to her about it?- Pepper takes inordinate pleasure in bouncing that particular piece of guidance back.

-Already attempted once. Bombed out big time. I pretty much suck at the whole vocal attachment-of-words-to-feelings thing. Not to mention when we first met I was the Webster's dictionary of a jerk. (And still am one in recovery.) Still, we've managed to become and remain what I hope is good friends – hell, we know each other so well these days we could probably win one of those quiz show newlywed games.-

Tony snorts as he reads what he's written…all carefully scripted to be the truth and yet not too much of it. Still it's a little amazing really how common his and Pepper's situation seems when put down on paper. The same sort of relationship troubles that could plague almost any 'bad-boy/good-girl' relationship.

Apparently being Iron Man doesn't cut him any kind of break in terms of becoming a lame stereotype in the romance department.

-If you want to go that route, T, it'd require broad, sweeping change to the definition of common law. Think of how many employees who hate their jobs would find themselves married to their bosses. The divorce rate would skyrocket.- There's a pause. As she types back this comment, Pepper decides she's not going to delete her files just yet, but maybe it is time to slow down her obsessive editing of them. Having feelings is okay; lingering over them is the problem. -I wish I could help more here. You've been a good friend letting me vent.-

Tony sighs, lips quirking a little at the irony of the situation. -It's okay. Though if you're willing maybe you can help by giving your opinion on a more basic guy/girl question.-

-Opinions are cheap. Fire away.-

-Tell me what a guy has to do in order to get his girl to take notice of him? I mean if polite and respectful doesn't do it, then what the hell will? Flowers? Singing telegrams? Do I just pin her up against the wall and plant a good one on her?-

Pepper imagines Tony doing just that to her, and shivers agreeably. -Per my agreement with the "Sisterhood," I have to tell you that officially we frown on that sort of thing.-

-Then what do I DO?-

-Depends, I guess... What's the lady's personality type?-

A long pause, then, -V seems a lot like how you write your version of Pepper, actually. Strong, competent…wry sense of humor. Good at work, but often flusters when things get more personal or slip outside of her comfort zone. Honestly I think she's a little bit of a closeted control freak.-

Pepper's about to make something out of that – not to mention bristle at the word 'control freak - when she realizes that most of the public at large is probably unaware that her first name is actually Virginia, and the label isn't even entirely untrue. Turbo doesn't even sound like the trait bothers him per se. Instead it's apparently just part of his "V's" overall still-attractive package.

-So what…you're waiting for our couple to figure things out so you can follow their example, then?-

-Not exactly. It's more like I'm trying to learn the female mind and social culture, so to speak. I figure reading stuff written from the female perspective might help me figure out how the one in particular I'm interested in might think or react to things.-

-Fanfiction as social decoding. Now there's a scary idea.-

-Why?-

Because its fiction – which by nature is in a constant battle between authentic truth and blatant over-exaggeration. It can hold a mirror to reality yes, but that doesn't make it real life.-

-If you believe that then why read it…much less write?-

-Because there's occasional glimpses of truth even in the more melodramatic pieces. You sort of have to…mine for gold when you read. Find the common or not so common truths that appear whether or not the author even intends them.- Pepper shakes her head a little deliberately changing the topic. Her own personal reasons for writing are distinctly more complicated. -But enough literary philosophy…don't worry too much if you feel totally at loss to understand women. It's a weakness common to those of your sex. Of course, after having poured my man troubles out to you, I can hardly claim that we females are doing any better. It's a warzone out there.-

-Tell me about it. I'm starting to put more and more stock in this whole Mars and Venus thing...- Tony rubs the bridge of his nose and shifts in his desk chair. Ironic that the most meaningful conversation he's ever had with Pepper about anything is happening through such a shadow of distance.

-I've seen that book too. The analogy's valid, if a little oversimplified.- Pepper finally types in thoughtfully. -In my opinion though, its not so much a matter of the genders coming from different planets as it is a matter people – regardless of their gender – being like coins on a table.-

-Huh?-

-Generally there's a two sides to every person, the seen and the unseen.-

It's a valid observation, Tony admits as he stares at his computer screen. What little he remembers of his studies on psychology even break it down even further than that, to Id, Super Ego and Ego. What Pepper's talking about though is more basic – the parts of themselves people showed to the world and the parts they kept hidden unless they felt safe. Pepper and Tony vs Turbo and Fanny essentially. That which served as a kind of armor and that which was vulnerable and needed to be protected.

He finally types back, -Gotcha. So what's your hidden side, then?-

Pepper sighs as she reads the question. 'Everything I say to you, of course.' -If I told you that, it wouldn't be hidden, Mr. Gable.-

-Touché.-

-Sorry…that may have come off snarkier then I mean it to, it's just…-

-A very complicated question?-

-Yup. And not likely to help you much in regard to getting your girl.-

-What will help then?-

Pepper considers the issue a moment, then shrugs and starts typing again. -Okay, this probably isn't the answer you're going to want, and it might not even answer the question you asked. But it's the best I can get out of my keyboard, so you'll have to take it for the moment. In my own experience, most women who are looking for a serious relationship would abandon an angel or a demon both for the pleasure of an honest to goodness HUMAN. What that means, essentially, is that contrast is a good thing. As far as I can tell, attraction is found in all those tiny, personal dichotomies that aren't actually dichotomies at all but flashes of the other side of the coin. So yeah, be the guy who climbs trees to rescue cats, but then curse really loudly when you drop something on your foot too. It builds a sense of mystery-

-Gotcha. You know its weird to say this, but on some level that makes a twisted kind of sense.- He'd never thought of a relationship as a puzzle, much less a complicated equation of variables. But if Pepper can be described at all, it probably is in that manner.

-Glad to hear it. So have you got any beta for me tonight?-

Tony raises a brow. -I thought you were thinking about jumping ship.-

-Still may eventually. For now though I think I just need to chill out a bit...do something light and fruity or at least light on the angst.-

He just can't resist. -Sounds like a good time to write smut to me.-

Pepper blushes, but responds with vigor. -Hate to shatter your illusions, but when I read smut, neither light nor fruity could be used to describe it.-

-Ooooh...tell me more, Fanny.-

-Do you know they actually make cock rings you stick in the freezer?-

-**! **-

Pepper laughs softly to herself. -Before I give you nightmares, I tend to gravitate more towards the bodice ripper variety when I'm inclined to indulge at all. It's still nice when the woman gets a bit of payback however. Equality and all that-

-God. Call 911 and get someone to restart my HEART please.-

-Just send me the beta and stop complaining.-

-Can't,- he types back after a moment. -You said you don't beta naughty.-

Pepper's breath catches in her throat and her mouth dries out. She is shocked with her own...interest. -It's not fair,- she complains after a moment, -to make me trust you as a writer and then tempt me with the goods.-

-I didn't intend to go this route...it didn't start out as dirty at all. Stark was just admiring some of Pepper's nonsexual assets.- He pauses. -That said, I'm a guy writing a guy looking at a beautiful woman. I mean can you really blame me?-

-Well, as long as your "admiration" doesn't stray into lewdness or fantasizing...I might take a peek. I can always close the document if I get uncomfortable.-

-Are you SURE? Don't want to push you into something you'll regret in the morning.-

Pepper snorts. -I appreciate that, since I manage the task fairly well on my own.-

-Just double checking.-

A moment later she clicks the 'accept the file' link.

_Pepper Potts has many standout qualities - not the least of which are intelligence, a evil sense of humor and a high tolerance for my bullshit - but the most sterling of those qualities has got to be her legs. And yeah, I'm a pig – never tried to pretend otherwise - but Pepper's legs? Could seriously bring a man back from the dead._

_Of course, while we're on the subject, so could her ass._

_The two of them together in that outfit? Simply put? Someone shoot me. PLEASE._

_See – here's the thing. Pepper and I have this little game where she wears short skirts and heels up to here, and I leer, and we both get on with our lives. And the reason the game works is because though I really like looking at her legs, I also respect the hell out of the woman they belong to. She's not some faceless/nameless T&A buffet to take advantage of, which is exactly what all the OTHER men in this room are thinking._

_And if Stedman doesn't stop trying to brush by her ass that way? I'm gonna have to do something extreme. Stop staring at her breasts, man. The stuff you need if you want to meet your deadline is in her HEAD. _

_See what most people don't get, because I don't talk about it, is that after ten year of knowing her the part of Virginia Potts that I most in awe of? Is Pepper's head. Yeah, sure, it's nicely shaped, covered in that amazing sunset hair, and possessed of a thin but deliciously broad mouth. But it also contains the world's best, most precise rolodex-slash-day planner, one that has even beaten J.A.R.V.I.S. at recalling information once or twice. And beating an AI with several terabytes of memory and processing speed is no mean feat. To be frank, it's the equivalent of beating an electronic chess grandmaster._

_So yeah Pepper's smart. If not exactly in the same spheres as me. That's okay because I like to think that the difference between us rounds us out a a working pair nicely. Pepper may not have my grasp of physics or high level mathematic, but in matters of history, social science and art Pepper can and regularly does talk CIRCLES around me. Anyone who doubts that is free to lose everything but the shirt on their back to her in Jeopardy!_

Pepper grins, because while she has never played Jeopardy! with Tony, she does regularly beats the pants off of both Tony and Rhodey in Trivial Pursuit. Even the sports trivia, though she'd memorized most of that as a defensive measure.

_Pepper's still chatting away politely with Stedman, though her arms have taken up a casually defensive stance over her cleavage. I, however, have had enough. And what kind of boss would I be if I didn't rescue my employees when they need it?_

_It doesn't hurt that rescuing this particular employee means keeping her cleavage all for myself. Pepper's...endowment package...is a clear case for quality over quantity. So I open my phone, pause a moment then raise my voice to carry across the room. "No – that's NOT acceptable. Hey, Potts! come deal with a couple of bozos for me."_

_She rolls her eyes, nods to Stedman and strides in my general direction. "Please tell me that's not a Board member," she whispers back dryly._

_"None of the Board members are interesting enough to be referred to as bozos." I hand her the phone, anticipating the moment she realizes no one's there._

_Have I mentioned Pepper's eyes? Because they're fantastic. Big, deep blue, expressive as hell, prone to more eye-rolling than I'd like, but then, that's usually my fault._

_She puts the phone to her ear, pauses, and then lifts a perfect brow at me. "Come on." I jerk my head toward the door, "Gawking season's up. I'm getting hungry."_

_She doesn't protest beyond another very well placed eyebrow, just turns on one of those sharp little heels and matches my pace, already tapping away at her phone. "You have a dinner appointment with Senator Tomlinson at seven. He prefers talking to eating, so I suggest heading some place filling for lunch."_

_I grin at her. "Old Country Buffet it is then."_

The story ends there, and Pepper doesn't know if she's more amused, chagrined, or flattered. There's a lot of focus put on the female form here, but there's an almost adequate balance of attention paid to more immaterial aspects, and a brash sweetness that's often so much of Tony's behavior with her. It's actually a little shocking at how well Turbo has written Tony.

-This is good,- she finally types. -Your flow and your vocabulary are really improving.-

-Be still my heart. Too much testosterone?-

-For anyone else? Yes. But probably not for Tony.-

-Tony? Someone's getting pretty familiar. Not calling him Stark anymore?-

-Sorry. Bad habit.-

Tony pauses then, -So have you accidentally called your guy at work 'Tony' yet?-

-My guy at work is a Tony. It's not exactly an uncommon name.- Absolute truth and absolute lie at the same time.

-Ah. Did you know Potts's first name is actually, of all things, Virginia?-

Pepper blinks.

-She was a cheerleader at her high school apparently.-

Pepper pales. -Tell me you didn't find pictures somewhere.-

-Well if you want me to lie.- There's a pause. -Funny, but I can't find record of her middle name anywhere...-

-Maybe she doesn't have one?- Pepper hopes he'll believe that desperately. Being named Virginia ROSE had not been one of her parents' brightest moments.

-Everyone has a middle name.-

-Absolute statements are the fallback for people without better arguments.-

-I suppose I'll just have to try and track down her birth records or something...-

-That's creepy, Stalker. Stick to tentacle sex.-

-I am so quoting you saying that in my status.-

-Go ahead, you've totally trashed my aura of mystery anyway.- Pepper rolls her eyes. As if he can do anything else to dig into her private life. -I'm going to bed now.-

-I wore you out huh?-

-Yup, and here I am all out of cigarettes.-

-Damn, I'm good. So, any big plans for the weekend?-

-Just the usual. Cleaning. Get some cooking done for the week. Maybe take a whack at some conversations I've been trying to avoid for awhile now.-

-Ooooooooooh. I accept thanks in the form of hot cookies.-

-That's baking, not cooking.-

-I stand corrected...- There's a pause then, -It's gonna be a slow weekend for me too. Just me and the tentacles if you know what I mean. If you need to decompress again at some point you know where to find me.-

-Yeah.- Pepper's lips quirk. Considering that one of the conversations she's thinking about having is with Tony, she might need reassurance from a male perspective later on. -Well, I really am going now. It's been a long day.-

-Sleep well. Try not to drive yourself bonkers all right?-

Pepper snorts then types. -That admonishment is coming in a little late. -

-Well, better late than never, right?-

Her lips quirk. -Turbo, for the record, thank you. For playing Lucy to my Charlie Brown, I mean.-

Tony grins than types back simply, -No problem. That'll be five cents please.-

Pepper signs out of her messenger account and turns off her computer. Her conversation with Turbo tonight has given her lots of food for thought, and a filter through which to process her recent interactions with Tony. In the dark of the bedroom, snug in her bed, Pepper thinks about the first of the conversations she's been putting off.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** hey all! Here's the long awaited, eagerly anticipated chapter five of n1f! What can I say? Life is busy, amount of time for writing is small, and both 4persephone and I are too inspired and too impatient to actually finish a story before starting five more. :P Don't worry though. Despite the time between updates, we're definitely committed to getting this baby finished.

We'd love to hear back from all of you, so get to reading already! ;)

* * *

Pepper had provided Tony lots of food for thought during their last online discussion: not the least of which is the realization that perhaps he has not really been using his secret intelligence to its best effect so far. While he does feel like starting to see the whole of her personality thanks to their online communications, at the same time he's also realizing he doesn't know vast tracts of her at all. If Pepper Potts is a continent he's seen less than half of her scope. Ironic as it is to admit, she's unintentionally been demonstrating her advice on being attractive for Turbo – by being both the tough guy (or woman in this case) and the good guy simultaneously. It's a bewildering balance, and trying to figure out the actual balance between Pepper and Fanny in any situation is starting to give him serious headaches.

As a result when Saturday morning rolls around, he's sleepless from a night that's been spent primarily thinking about Pepper. He's also restless because it's becoming more and more frustrating not being able to just talk to her honestly about everything instead of having to resort to subterfuge. He wants to come clean more than ever today – perhaps spurred by her talk of throwing out her writer's cap – but he's hesitant to do so because he's not sure _Pepper_ is ready for him to do so.

Clearly Pepper is trying to work out their relationship on her terms - which makes sense on a basic level, but at the moment she's not doing her processing in a box and as a result he can also feel the tension point she's dragging them both toward. It's making him _very_ nervous because now that he has some insight into how she thinks - and what she is and isn't to act on - he's worried that she might not act at all as a result. Or worse yet she could back peddle…hell she's started doing that already.

If that happens then all the forward momentum they've achieved in the last few weeks might be lost and they'll have to start all over. Again.

Frankly, he's not sure he can _take_ the anxiety of teetering on this tight rope indefinitely.

And so, resigned, he rises from his bed with a grumble. Giving up on any chance at dozing off again, and heads first for the master closet for his swim trunks and a shirt. Then he makes his way down to the mansion's private beach with a surfboard under his arm.

He needs the release of physical activity. (And no not 'that' kind!) If he can't do anything else about the mess his life is in at the moment, then at least he can lose himself for awhile in mindless exertion. Luckily the water's beautiful and the waves are as nice as he's ever seen this time of year. It's far easier than he realizes to lose track of time once he let's his mind blank and his body give way to muscle memory.

He stays on the surfboard longer than he realizes, until the sun is high in the sky and his exposed skin is starting to sting just slightly. It's at that point he catches a glimpse of a figure waving at him from the beach.

For a moment Tony's heart leaps in his chest at the sight, before he recognizes the figure as Rhodey, and then he's relieved and disappointed at the same time. He catches one last wave and lets the momentum carry him back to shore. Shaking his head like a dog as he exits the surf, he teasingly sprinkles water in Rhodey's general direction.

"_Not_ cool, Man," Rhodes snipes automatically, taking a precautionary step back. "Seriously, Stark, _respect_ the uniform."

"If you didn't want to get your uniform dirty, then you shouldn't have come down here." Tony brushes his hair out of his face and grabs his board. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Platypus?"

Rhodes' look is bemused. "I should have known you'd forget. Breakfast today, remember? Frankos? All you can eat buffet?"

"Oh. Right. Got distracted." It's not exactly a news flash, and he ignores the way Rhodey rolls his eyes as they start the climb back up towards the house. "Do you want to go out still, or should we just find something here?"

"Let me think. Go out and get food while I still have more than half the day off, or suffer the terror that is your cooking. That's a tough one. Really it is."

Tony scowls a little. "I've got cereal and non-cook stuff in the pantry."

Rhodes snorts aloud. "Not all of us consider six boxes of Cocoa Puffs acceptable breakfast food, Tony. You shouldn't either if you ever want to maintain any muscle mass. Or has that suit of yours replaced your need for brute strength?"

"I don't know why I put up with you," Tony grumbles as he deposits his board in the garage - it could use a little care later today - and continues through the house. "Look…Give me fifteen minutes. I really need a shower and shave before I let you drag me out of the batcave."

"I'll be playing Grand Theft Auto in the shop," Rhodes replies amicably. He plops on the couch in front of the entertainment center while Tony goes off in search of clean clothes and hot water.

Tony reappears fifteen minutes later, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a ratty pair of Converse. "Hey man, I'm set."

Rhodes raises an eyebrow, taking in Tony's more casual than normal garb, then nods. "All right. I'm driving."

"If you want to call what you do driving," Tony cracks, slipping on his shades though he doesn't give any other protest.

Rhodes comes to a dead stop, eyebrow raising, "What …not even a fight? Unless…" His eyes narrow as he tilts his head "Something you need to confess to the rest of us, Stark…?"

"Us? What - do you have multiple personality syndrome now? Please tell me they're not all as boring and straight laced as the original." Tony side steps the question, hoping that the familiar mockery will be enough to move things along.

"Yeah right." Rhodes shoots back. "Like the world needs more than one of the perfect specimen that is me."

"You got that half right."

The reply had been only half aware. Rhodes falls silent, studying the smaller man curiously. Tony though, continues to be evasive. He can't talk to Rhodey about Pepper without swearing him to silence which has two possible outcomes. The first being that Rhodey will refuse, because he knows Tony too well, or secondly he'll agree and then he'll be so uncomfortable and sullen around Pepper that _she'll_ be pestering him next about what's wrong.

Of course, swearing him to silence is probably the best way to get Rhodey to drop it.

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you, but first you have to swear you won't tell Pepper."

"Dun dun dun." Rhodes replies mock ominously. "I'd rather put up with you in a sulk than Pepper when she's pissed off.

"The point of swearing you to silence is to keep Pepper from getting pissed," Tony replies, shaking his head, as if Rhodey's even more hopeless than he is.

"Does Pepper _deserve_ to be pissed?" Rhodes finally ventures the question. Of course he probably already knows the answer. They both know full well that Pepper Potts is one of the few people in the world truly capable of making Tony Stark feel genuinely guilty. And considering how much and how often she forgives Tony Stark his normal laundry list of sins, whatever stain he's trying to conceal must be pretty damn bad.

"You're the one who said it. Not me. You know what, just forget get it. Now are we going to go and actually grab some breakfast like you wanted, or are we gonna keep standing here yakking like a couple of teenage girls?"

"I don't know...if we stay will there be nail polish and Zac Efron?" Rhodes unlocks the car automatically.

"Not the latter while I still breathe. You'd look good in pink, though."

"I always thought mauve was more my color, actually..."

"Why do you even know a word like 'mauve'?" Tony demands as he climbs into the car and reaches for his seat belt.

"I was the only boy born amongst seven girl cousins." Rhodes shudders in apparent post traumatic memory

"And what? They ganged up on you, held you down, and painted your toe nails?" The image is actually enough to make Tony snort. He's known Rhodey long enough to have a pretty good idea of the kind of bean pole kid he probably used to be.

"Worse. They offered me pixie sticks to let them do it. At age seven I was addicted and willing to sacrifice my woman haters he-man card for a handful of those things."

"And they say weed is a gateway drug." Tony relaxes a bit in his seat because he figures he's gotten them enough off topic that Rhodey will have a hard time working things back to Pepper.

Rhodey grins as he turns over the engine.

Five minutes later they're nearly to their favorite breakfast restaurant, a mom and pop place that Tony had dragged him to one memorable Spring Break and that had become an almost monthly stop in the intervening years. "So..." Rhodes says after a moment. The word is more than leading.

"Sorry, but if you want the latest gossip you're going to have to hit up Jarvis. Or was there a specific inquiry hidden somewhere in that syllable?" Tony fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, hands wishing for some sort of occupation. Did he remember to bring his phone? He finds it in a pocket and relaxes a little.

"Com'on, Stark. Is telling me what's got your shorts in a knot really gonna be worse than sitting there like a nervous cat...?"

Tony shrugs. He honestly doesn't have enough experience to come to any sort of conclusion. He's not entirely certain that the colonel won't ream him out for this whole mess with Pepper, even if he only reveals the botched kiss and the awkwardness that'd been between them the next day.

After all, he's Tony Stark. That probably means it's all his fault. Whatever "it" is.

He chews his lip a moment then, "Fine. Friday. Things got...awkward...with Pepper."

"I knew it!" Rhodes sounds...disappointed?...as they pull up in front of the diner. He puts the car in park. "What'd you do?"

"I was perfect gentleman, for the record. Not _that_ kind of gentleman," he corrects as Rhodes makes a face. This has nothing to do with being an attentive lover...though it absolutely does at the same time. "Look, I was bored, so Pepper and I played Monopoly on Thursday night - she's a total robber baron by the way – she'd had too many beers to drive home, so I convinced her to stay over. It's not a big deal," he mutters. "And I _was_ a gentleman."

"And how exactly does any of this equate to things being 'awkward?'

"Shetriedtokissme." The admission comes out with the words all jammed together, but still (relatively) understandable.

Rhodes studies him pretty intently for close to a minute, or at least that's what Tony thinks his friend is doing. He can't be certain since he doesn't look in his direction. He – Tony Stark, lover of many and most of it on public record – can feel the heat of embarrassment warming cheeks already pink from hours of surfing.

"Pepper tried to kiss you, or you _think_ Pepper tried to kiss you?"

Rhodey's tone makes Tony's temper flare. "Why do you have to say it like that?" he demands, trying to keep his irritation with his friend under control. "I think I should know what it looks like when a woman tries to kiss me."

Rhodes holds both hands up off the wheel in brief surrender. "Just wondering. I mean, I assume she wasn't the only one drinking at the time."

Tony makes a face. "I'd had a beer," he admits. "Maybe two. But I was sober enough to see it coming and know what it was and turn my head...again, trying to be a gentleman."

"She tried to kiss you and you turned your head to _stop_ her?" Rhodes' voice is frankly disbelieving.

"What?"

"Nothing...it's just...well frankly, Tony, it's a little surprising given the way you've been slavering all over her for months."

"Slavering?"

"And orbiting in circles like Taz," Rhodey continues helpfully.

Tony rolls his eyes and waits for Rhodes to pull into a parking spot and turn of the engine before he gets out of the car, needing to move to burn off his rapidly growing irritation.

"Thank you very much for once again completely underestimating me," he says, as soon as Rhodes gets out as well. "Pepper's… different. You know she is. _I_ know she is. If I'd let just let her jump me last night, it wouldn't have mattered what she'd wanted at the time. What she would have left with was the impression that she was no different than all the rest." He plows his hands through his hair and kicks a piece of gravel across the parking lot, hitting the tire of another car. "As it is even the attempt freaked her out. She wouldn't even talk about it with me yesterday, so I haven't had the chance to explain myself. If I'd known being a gentleman would hurt her feelings, I would have..." He doesn't know what he would have done, honestly.

"Damn," Rhodes mutters.

"What?" Tony grumbles, getting tired of sounding like a broken record.

"Just...damn." Rhodes eyes are a little too knowing all of a sudden, as he repeats his summation. "I didn't realize…"

"Realize what…?"

"It was like _that_."

"You're real helpful, you know that?" Tony's voice is on the edge of caustic.

"Doctor Phil I'm not... Look. I'm gonna need some time to process all this info before I can come up with something useful to tell you."

"_You_ need time," Tony parrots back the Colonel's words more than a little ironically.

"You...I…." Rhodey shake his head, and then his hand comes out to clap down on his shoulder for a moment is what passes for his sappy gesture of masculine support. "I know this isn't probably very comforting to hear at this point, but if it makes you feel any better…that was probably the right move."

"You're right. It's not. _Probably_?"

"Definitely. Though it may be hard to do clean up depending on how hard Pepper took the rejection."

"It wasn't a reject–"

"Yeah well I wouldn't count on her seeing it that way. She knows your reputation and may not get yet why exactly you didn't live down to it."

"Touching. Is it so shocking I might be a decent human being?" Rhodey's words line up so perfectly with Pepper's...Fanny's...tone the night before that Tony finds himself losing the battle against sinking into the depression that usually accompanies his "technogenius" plans whenever they run up against a brick wall. The only difference is that with the inventions, he always knows that sooner or later the math will work out. But Pepper? Despite her hinting at it the night before, she still hasn't tried to contact him. That silence probably spoke pretty eloquently of his chances - their chance? - at the moment.

"I wonder how much it'd cost me... " he finally grumbles, more to himself than for Rhodey's benefit.

"Cost?"

"Never mind." He wants to know what it will cost to find one person who sees me the _person_ and not an obnoxious oversized brain on a stick. Though actually, he knows exactly what it'll cost. Silence. All he has to do is keep his mouth shut and he can have Fanny. Not Pepper, but Fanny. On some levels the idea's so tempting it's actually depressing. Prior to recently he'd never even _noticed_ this isolationist shit.

Tony shrugs, doing his best to shrug off his mood as well. Whatever's going to happen is going to happen, and he'll face it then. Right now he's probably going to better off getting some breakfast and bringing his blood sugar above sea level. Then he can worry about Pepper and Fanny and Turbo and how this is all going to work out.

"Come'on," Tony finally says. "Enough talking for now. I'm starving."

* * *

Friday night, before going to bed, Pepper swore to herself that she would call Tony the next day and apologize for her behavior. So, Monday afternoon, after suffering through several stilted, awkward exchanges with her boss, she knows she has no one to blame but herself for not following through on that promise. There's also one else to blame but herself for the elephant now trying to look inconspicuous in the corner of the room.

"Stupid," she murmurs to herself as she goes down the steps. She is a stupid, cowardly fool.

She'd tried. She really had. Had picked up the phone several times only to put it back down again the moment she heard the dial tone. Then she'd given up and spent the rest of the weekend taking a mental holiday.

Her brain had been exhausted, and trying to write would have only further raked it over the coals instead of providing solace. She can't say when it'd happened, but her reasons for writing have changed over time, morphing from an emotional outlet to a way of asking questions she can't bear to have answered. She's no longer writing as a method to cope with the fear when Tony goes out in the suit. She's writing to try and explain their relationship to herself...and it's not helping.

'Coward.' That word again. Also 'pretender.'

She's been writing her feelings and emotions down certainly, and sharing bits and pieces of the Tony she knows. But she's not writing him, really - just bantering with a two dimensional parody. The Tony she's showing cyberspace is no more the real Tony Stark than the guise he shows the media is.

Anthony Edward Stark - her boss and sometimes-maybe-best friend - still manages to escape her ability to define satisfactorily.

He's doing things… Monopoly? Writing Haiku? Buying her tea because he knows she likes it? Chatting online for the company but not the sex…?

She's becoming more and more hopelessly entangled in the ways she doesn't know him.

Pepper finds herself hesitating on the last step to the basement. Tony's right where she left him earlier this morning - back to the glass wall, 3D blueprints spinning in front of him. His posture - slouched in his chair, legs sprawled, chin propped in his hand - indicates that he's made no progress on them since the last time she interrupted his solitude.

Swallowing hard, she opens the door, his music - harsher and more discordant than usual - dials back as she steps inside. She can see his shoulders twitch at the interruption, but he doesn't stir himself enough to complain.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark, but -"

"Not today, Pepper. I can't take any more today." His voice isn't condemning – just matter of fact. Something squeezes tight in her chest.

"Take…?"

"Bullcrap formality. We both know that you know my name."

"I..." She hates the way she starts talking even though she has no clue what to _say_. "Just being professional…" What she means, what she thinks she means, is those are their roles. He's Mr. Stark, inventor, businessman and genius. She's Ms. Potts, fashionable, eminently practical girl Friday. "I mean that's who you are…"

The look he gives her is dark and full of things she can't name. "Really? Because I think that's who I was until we changed – and you, now you don't know what to say because you don't know who or what the hell I…no…_we_ are to each other any more."

Her jaw nearly hits the floor as she just stares at him, speechless with shock. Tony doesn't say these sort of things. Well except in her stories.

He gestures between them with sharp, forceful motions. "Can you really tell me this is _working_? 'Cause you look pretty damn miserable and I'm all but hiding in my damn basement. Am I just tilting at windmills…?" He grimaces as he cuts himself off. She watches as he takes several deep breaths before starting again. "I _can_ be patient, you know. But there's limits."

"I know?" It's a question, not a confirmation. In fact, Pepper does _not_ know that Tony can be patient. Out of his many sterling qualities, patience is not exactly atop the list. Whatever drives him typically never lets up enough for him to even attempt that particular virtue.

He snorts softly. "I had the plans in my head for almost a decade before I had to build my suit, Pep."

Pepper blinks, not entirely comprehending the course of this whole conversation.

"What I'm saying is I get waiting sometimes…when it's something _important_, yes. When it's something you can't just redo only an idiot doesn't take the time to build it _right_."

She stares again, scared by the fact that she's starting to understand.

"I can _be_ patient," he repeats, as if just saying it makes it true, "when it counts. And I know I have a lot to make up for, a lot of clean up to do. So if you need time, if waiting is the only way you're going to stop trying to pinch yourself out of this dream where I've decided to start acting like a responsible human being, then take it. But you don't get to shut me out like that again because like it or not, I am still one half of this relationship." He says it like a challenge, then mutters almost too quietly for her to catch, "Whatever the hell it actually is."

"I..." Damnit it, when is she going to regain the ability to finish a lucid sentence?

"I assume that those need signing?" He gestures to the clipboard in her hand, apparently ending his impromptu rant.

She glances down almost woodenly. Yeah, she is holding on to a bunch of file folders, all neatly organized and clearly marked where his signature is necessary. Very tidy. Easy to file away later. Something this conversation - had she participated enough for it to _be_ a conversation? - isn't.

Tony's eyes track her as she steps forward to hand them off. He looks...well, he's got the "problem child" look on his face again. Any time an invention isn't going the way he wants, she calls it his problem child. Pepper really doesn't like that he's looking at her that way.

"It wasn't a rejection, you know," he says quietly as she steps away after handing him the documents. His voice is no longer so forceful. "The other night _wasn't_ me blowing you off."

"What else do you call it?" Her voice is quiet as she forces out the question.

His is too as he scribbles his signature several times in rapid succession. "Oh I don't know…how about not taking advantage. Or giving us a chance to have a first kiss you won't regret?" He glances up at her after scribbling another quickfire signature. "It may come as a shock that I tried to be a nice guy – but had I Jarvis check and its not a sign of the apocalypse. You're the one who's always urging me to be cautious. Punishing me for taking your advice by treating me like a minion isn't the best way to encourage the habit."

The silence and the tension drag out unbearably until Pepper works up enough courage to murmur, "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to get so..." She trails off

"Me Timmy, you Lassie?" Though the words are a little harsh there's also humor in the way Tony waggles his brows.

Now that he's had a chance to speak, the cloud around him seems to be lifting, at least a little. He still looks tired, and there's a seriousness behind the light humor in his eyes. His honesty pulls at her though, demanding some sort of acknowledgement beyond stammered apologies.

Pepper accepts the papers back, then stares down at them for several seconds before clearing her throat. "I..." She clears it again, then forces the words out. "Sometimes you freak me out. You're dangerous, Tony." She thinks she's probably one of the only people in America to think that. Sure, others intellectually acknowledge that he can build dangerous things. But knowing isn't the same thing as the emotions that sometimes sink in her belly like a rock when she's around him. He is simultaneously the safest and the most dangerous thing in her world. "I honestly don't know what to do with you sometimes…."

* * *

Now that he's had the chance to communicate his own frustration with her, Tony finds that he can be surprised by her admission about what's been driving her actions. Out of all the reasons she had for keeping them in this holding pattern, he'd never imagined that her feeling threatened was one of them.

It stings a little. Sure, she's a smart woman and was probably justified of being wary about what kind of damage he could do inside the context of a relationship, and he knows she hates the disruption of her routines, even if the disruption had the potential to lead to something fantastic.

Still to actually feeling truly _threatened_? By _him_?

He reminds himself even if it stings to hear that, he really has no logical reason to expect her to have much faith in either him or his intentions. At a loss for anything else to say – for any other way to react – he falls back on their old standbys: humor and innuendo "Well maybe if I can make a suggestion –"

"No," she replies, just as she's shot down a thousand baseless offers in the past. Except the offers aren't so baseless anymore, and he's starting to really understand that neither are her rejections.

His lips quirk. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Though for the record it's kind of nice to know that now you know exactly how I feel about you."

The way Pepper's eyes widen a little tells him he's not the only one capable of being caught off guard. One eyebrow climbs her forehead. "I'm not dangerous, Tony…"

"Yeah you are," he interrupts, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He has to get up and start moving, in any direction but towards her because he's about to lay out his hand again and the last time he did she threw his mistakes back in his face for his trouble. "That's exactly what you are. The last one, the only one, the first one, take your pick. But I've never have just _one_ of anything, Pepper. Because that means when it's gone, it's...irreplaceable."

It's the kind of admission Turbo would make, and Tony wonders if Fanny will pick up the ball and reply with actual thoughtfulness, or if Pepper, already overloaded and in shock, is simply going to retreat.

"I...I..." Without the aid of a keyboard, Pepper seems almost as poor at expressing her thoughts as he feels at the moment. It's a bittersweet kind of irony.

He sighs a little. "Again, for the record - I can't promise I won't ever fuck things up between us more than I already have, Potts. But if I do, it won't be on purpose. It matters and it _wasn't_ rejection."

She nods, the jerky up and down motion a long way from her usual grace. "I... People are waiting for these..." She glances towards the door, then turns her eyes back to him. "Tony..."

He can hear the plea in her voice, and he nods in return, gesturing somewhat wearily towards the door. They're probably both feeling a little sandblasted at the moment, their emotions raw and on edge.

She's almost out the door before Tony stops her with one last confession. "If you sneak out the door without saying goodbye tonight, Potts, I'm going to take it personally."

She nods jerkily at that, then quickly climbs the stairs.

* * *

"Shit shit shit." Saying the words doesn't really change anything, but it makes her feel a whole lot better at least, and at the moment she'll take it. Ten minutes up from the basement, and her hands are _still_ shaking a little

Because Tony had…he'd…

When the hell had Mr. Candid become so…metaphoric in stating things?

'Haiku,' her annoying inner narrator immediately supplies. He'd told her he was writing poetry. He'd also indicated it was supremely bad...but his genius can be dangerously versatile. Techgeeks aren't supposed to be so dangerously glib for example. Maybe she shouldn't trust his opinion.

He'd certainly gotten his point across effectively.

She wants to blame her shock on his sudden eloquence, and not on the emotional honesty that'd driven him to speak up in the first place. Honesty and hurt. Hurt had definitely been the primary emotion expressed when she'd first gone downstairs, and it'd made another more bittersweet appearance at the end when he'd requested that she not leave the house anonymously.

When he'd made it clear she had the _power_ to hurt him.

It was a startling thought to have. Tony was so good at feigning enthusiasm, after all - at working his feelings out in the shop and leaving them there. He's the master of 'deflect and absorb' as an emotional gambit. She truly hadn't realized that her behavior last Friday had done that kind of damage. 'I mean, he said it himself. His show of restraint was in accordance with what he thought I wanted.'

She takes a seat on the couch and rubs her hands against her thighs. It's been a long time since Tony has unsettled her this badly. Sometimes she thinks that's because she's seen everything he has to throw at her. And times like this she thinks it's because he's shown her nothing at all that actually matters...

'And the less you understand him the harder it is to control him' the soft voice injects all but mercilessly.

It's true. Since the day he hired her, she's essentially been in control of their relationship. Yes, there's been times when he's talked her into things against her better judgment, times he's guilted her into bending the rules for him, times he's given her outright orders she's disagreed with. But that's always been about work and never been personal.

Except for the last few months she's been in complete control of their personal dynamics because Tony has never been serious enough to really participate in their relationship.

That just wasn't the case, anymore.

Post-Afghanistan Tony is still an idiot a lot of the time, but he is also better at reading people than she's really ever grasped. He's growing emotionally at an astonishing rate, and it's really time that she starts viewing him as a (mostly) functioning adult instead of someone who has to be guided through every step. Yes, he's fumbling and making things up as he goes along, but that's just _Tony_, and she uncertain that any amount of growth is ever going to totally erase that from his makeup.

Pepper lets out a shaky breath as she rubs her palms along her thighs, trying to steady herself. She's been telling herself for years that she's been waiting for this day, but now that it's here she doesn't know what to do with it any more than she had when she'd seen the first spark that morning of the disastrous press conference.

How can she explain - if she can explain without sounding insulting - that she needs time to figure out how deal with how much he's changed. Hell, does he even get that he has changed? At least in her eyes.

And for that matter, does he get why _he'd_ been rejected? Pepper turns her head slowly and looks at her laptop. Just looks at it. Clearly she sucks at vocalizing things today. No, not just today. To be honest, she sucks at speaking honestly to Tony any time he gets serious on her. It happens so rarely. What would happen if...

If she's been writing to work out her relationship with Tony, then isn't it time he actually see part of that?

She almost dismisses the thought out of hand. It's ridiculous after all. She does not need to be writing her boss love letters and her heart is racing at just the thought and...

She's just not that brave.

'It doesn't have to be mushy to be honest.' That same voice, quietly, insistently. 'He tried to verbalize his feelings for you...this is just returning the favor.'

If he'd been hurt by her distancing methods, could she at least explain a bit of the why of her initial rejection?

Tony cared for her. More than she'd ever heard him admit to caring for anyone. The problem was she was starting to grasp that only now, _months_ after he'd haphazardly tried to shift her into the role of his 'girlfriend.' But did he grasp - even now- the massive potholes he left dotting the road between his words and his apparent intent?

He'd said that the other night hadn't been a rejection, had instead been his decision to wait. Would he understand if she told him the same story, the same decision, just from months before?

It's still a ludicrous idea, and Pepper's heart is still racing in her throat, but she reaches for her laptop anyway and brings up a new Word document.

Two hours later, Pepper finishes her story, satisfied that it is at least as honest as she can make it even if it is perhaps not as polished. Hell, perhaps the roughness will make it more _real_ when he reads through it.

She prints it, tucks it inside a file folder, and hesitantly makes her way back downstairs. It's early for her to leave, but she doesn't think she can stay here while he reads it, waiting anxiously for him to find these specific pages in between the other files she needs him to look over before tomorrow.

Well, really she just needs him to look them over so she'll have time to make her getaway. Just because she's being honest doesn't mean she's any braver.

That's something only time and Tony are going to be able to fix.


	7. Chapter 7

It's Tuesday. More specifically, the first Tuesday of the month, which means spending the day at SI headquarters and herding Tony through meeting after meeting and generally spending the day in closer than usual quarters with him. For the most part this means a relatively calm and productive day for Pepper, one in which Tony – while maybe not particularly content with the generalized boredom – is at the very least kept out of trouble and marginally preoccupied with other things.

This particular first Tuesday of the month, Pepper wishes she could just stay in bed. Better yet, in bed, faking slumber, with the covers pulled up tight over her head. She's dreading facing Tony and seeing his reaction to the letter she'd written him.

What if he's offended? Or worse yet, what if he's not? She's terrified that he'll have another of his Eureka moments and end up saying all the right, grown up things before she's really ready to hear them. What if he pulls back to give her some space and it only highlights the awkwardness in their current work situation?

But not going into work isn't really an option. A preoccupied to the point of oblivious Tony plus her being absent would probably be as subtle as a flashing neon sign to the entire company that something's going on between the CEO and his ever-present girl Friday. She's not sure she can handle the way it might put them both in the fishbowl.

Being practical, Pepper forces herself to go to work, if only because not going could have equally catastrophic implications.

Being practical and possessed of a healthy sense of self-preservation, she arranges to be later than normal in her morning arrival. She figures between the two of them, Jarvis and Happy can get Tony to work on time for one, and then she can slip into the office after Tony's already behind closed doors for the first of his meetings.

If she's lucky, she can sit in her alcove outside his office and avoid facing him until lunch.

The butterflies in her stomach turn into a full fledged migration of the Monarchs as she strides into the lobby of Stark Industries, but she tries not to worry about it. Anyone who knows who she is will chalk her unsettled expression up to running behind her own schedule and perhaps some concern for what her boss might be getting up to in her absence rather than any sort of personal matter.

Not even the elevator offers a respite from glances that feel heavier than they are. It's ridiculous that she feels this exhilarated and vulnerable. It's the same feeling she gets during earthquakes – alive, unsure, and slightly nauseous. She chews the inside of her lip and watches as floor after floor comes and goes, as passengers come and go, and marvels at this face that she and Tony seem to take turns wearing for the world around them. She mentioned it in the letter she wrote him, the first time she saw the face for what it was – so perhaps it's only appropriate that she wear it now. After all, the ball's effectively in his court now. Maybe. At the very least they're going to be on what passes for a level playing field.

It isn't until Pepper rounds the corner and sees Tony leaning against her desk, arms crossed over his chest and an impassive look on his face that she realizes that the one thing Tony Stark has probably _never_ in his life played on is a level field.

Tony, from what she can she is most definitely preoccupied. He's staring so intently at the toes of his shoes that he doesn't notice her deer in the headlights routine. She's grateful; it gives her time to compose herself as her heart jolts into a fast, uncomfortable rhythm.

Pulling a composed mask on over the apprehension that's been distracted but not dismissed, Pepper restarts herself, walking towards her desk before someone comes by and notices her staring longingly at her boss.

_Turbo__ would __be __so __proud,_ she thinks ruefully.

"_You_ are supposed to be in a meeting with the reps from Entek International." Tony's head rises at the sound of her voice. "In fact, you should be elbow deep in shop talk about batteries, those breathable membranes you're so interested in for the suit, and the advent of energy packs."

"Yeah. They're in there right now, chewing the fat." Tony nods towards his closed office doors. "I wanted to talk to you a minute before I went in and joined them."

"About?" Pepper swerves around him without making eye contact. She doesn't understand his behavior. He's not flippant, or amused, or anything that resembles good natured. He doesn't look angry or embarrassed either. He's not _upset_ is he? He's the one who demanded honesty, who wanted to start transforming what existed between them.

He _can__'__t_ change his mind now that she's starting to give in to the culmination of a decade's worth of friendship, co-dependence, and completely tactless honesty. Even socially clueless Tony can't be jerking her around like this deliberately.

"Those contracts you left for me last night, Potts? Did you leave them all with me?" Tony straightens a stack of file folders on the corner of her desk, then drums his fingers over them nervously.

Pepper hesitates before answering. "As far as I know. Why?" Had she been so distracted by that damn letter (that he hasn't mentioned yet) that she forgot something? "Are some of the papers for the Entek presentation missing? I thought I left all the sample proposals on your desk last week –"

"You did! The reps are looking them over now. It's just…."

"What then…?" Tony looks far more uncomfortable than her questions should merit. Which means this probably isn't actually about work. Pepper seals her lips and pins Tony with a hard look. She's used to waiting him out, staring at him until he spills his guts. Now she does it out of self-preservation, because if he doesn't say something soon she's going to scream.

Fortunately it doesn't take long. While they're both uncomfortable, it seems that for once Pepper is hiding it better. It's enough of an upper hand that Tony is practically sweating.

When he glances down at the pile of folders next to him, Pepper gets a premonition of what's going to happen next. Tony will pull out the file folder with her letter in it, he'll hand it back to her, and make up some story to cover up the fact that her reciprocal honesty has scared him off.

It happens. Tony pulls out an unlabeled file; Pepper watches it, unable to tear her eyes away. She waits to hear Tony tell her that he's not ready, that he's overwhelmed, that he's sorry she misinterpreted, that he'd been drunk –

"I think some personal stuff got mixed in with your papers by mistake." He sounds…defensive as he continues to stand there and offer her the folder. "Either that or folders got switched and you may have filed some of what we need away in the wrong section. That's why I asked about other paperwork. This isn't what you meant to give me."

The words are so different than what she'd been bracing herself for that Pepper momentarily doesn't understand. "I'm sorry?"

"This isn't Entek stuff. Don't worry, though, I didn't read it."

"You didn't read it –" The bottom falls out of Pepper' stomach at the words. Somewhere someone absolutely sadistic is having a very long laugh at her expense.

"At least, not past the first few words. I know you place more importance on privacy than I do, and I didn't want to make you angry by reading one of your narratives without your permission –"

"One of my what?" Pepper's…horrified. How does he know about her stories?

"Your writing." Tony looks confused, as if this is a conversation they've had a thousand times and she's simply forgotten. "The stuff you work on during breaks sometimes. It's not Xbox or anything. But hey to each their own, right?"

If they'd had this conversation before, she would have quit before dying of embarrassment at his feet. She's not dead, so ergo they've never had this conversation. So what is he _talking_ about? "Wait. You think I write stories? About myself I mean?"

Tony opens his mouth to answer…then closes it slowly as an emotion she _ought_ to be able to identify flashes through his eyes. It's there and gone too quickly though, leaving her feeling as if she's been asked to put together a puzzle without a picture to guide her.

She's missing something that would explain everything about the last week if only she knew what it was.

"No. No, of course not. If one of us were going to start writing stories about themself, it'd be me. Everyone knows that. And I'd get a tell-all book deal first. You know, an obscene amount of money for all the obscene details. Did I mention I'm supposed to be in a meeting right now?" He keeps holding out that file folder, waiting for her to take it back. It's rock steady in his hand, and that more than anything is proof he really _hasn__'__t_ read it.

"Tony –"

"I'm trying to be a gentleman, Pepper!"

"I noticed." What he'd said about trying to value her privacy, about not taking advantage of what he saw as a mistake… Yeah, she knew. It disarms the better part of her suspicions. After all, her letter was written more in the style of a story than a traditional correspondence. It hadn't been addressed specifically to him. And his trying to do the right thing might account for his being so uncomfortable.

It made sense that he'd want to protect the small gains they'd made towards a relationship that was something more than what they had now. It's also, ironically not, her 'get out of jail free card', should she want it.

The awkwardness on his face though, is final proof that scared or not, she really doesn't.

"Thank you…thank you for trying." Pepper lays her hand over his wrist, the silk of his shirt and the wool of his suit coat between his skin and hers which wasn't enough of a barrier to conceal the heat rolling off his body. He trembles under her gentle touch, and she knows that in this single moment she has every ounce of his focus.

He doesn't say her name. Instead he locks his brown eyes on her and she lets herself be caught by them. Not fighting the draw between them is strange, and new, and totally unfamiliar, but Pepper can feel her heart slowing, pulse calming under the influence of his gaze. Hell, she can feel _his_ pulse slowing under her fingertips.

Pepper doesn't know how long they exist in that bubble of silence and…communion, just that it can't last as long as she'd like. There are businessmen waiting for him in his office and probably more correspondence than she's going to be able to reply to since she spent most of the previous afternoon as a nervous wreck. Wetting her lips – a movement he tracks with an intensity that threatens to steal her breath – she manages to murmur. "It's not a story, Tony. It's a letter. It was written for you and you should read it. Later. You have my permission. When you're not supposed to be talking about saving lives and creating a better future with the men waiting in your office."

"One of them's a woman."

"Oh."

They've been reduced to the most simple of observations and exchanges. Pepper lets her hand fall away from his arm before they lose all hope of functioning as highly ranked members of the workforce.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah?" Tony gives her another one of those looks that she doesn't know how to interpret before stepping away. "Okay then. Entek and breathable membranes."

Pepper nods silently as Tony walks towards the doors of his office, the file folder in his hand tapping impatiently against his thigh. He glances at her once last time before stepping through the doors to the executive office.

A shallow, shuddering breath slips past Pepper's lips; it carries most of her mental confusion with it, strangely enough. She's even able to sit down at her desk, stow away her purse and briefcase, and log in to her SI account.

_Huh,_ she thinks as she opens up Outlook.

_This might actually work._

* * *

The reps from Entek leave. Tony sees them out, talking about battery separators, the best local food, and college football. Before disappearing back into his office, he gives her an intense, _Don__'__t__ Move_ kind of look.

Pepper breathes out shakily once he closes the doors to his office. He's supposed to use the time before his next meeting to review the meeting with the reps and give his impression of what they discussed and whether or not he can see a partnership with the company profiting both parties. However, if he was going to do that, he would have called her in after him to take notes on his thoughts and opinions. As she is sitting out here in the outer offices and he is cloistered away, she has to assume that he's going to read the letter she'd written instead. Before his curiosity did in the both of them.

Their afternoon schedule was going to be shot. She should have waited until the end of the business day to return it to him.

Anticipation and, well, dread, make Pepper squirm in her seat. Between yesterday and today, this is probably one of the rare weeks when Tony will actually get more work done than she will. She's barely made a dent on her inbox, and there's a pile of reports growing on her desk that need to be read and summarized for Tony's consumption, and she's having a hard time tearing her eyes away from the closed door of his office.

If this is any indication of how the rest of the day is going to go, she might as well go home now. She hasn't gotten anything important done yet, and doubts she will until she knows that Tony's read her letter and knows what his response is.

If he actually responds right away instead of taking some time to digest things.

This is ridiculous. She left high school behind long ago. This sort of angst should be illegal for a woman her age. Whatever happened to working? Forget the end of the day – she should have given him the letter at the beginning of the weekend.

"…to Pepper…come in, Pepper…" Pepper swivels in her chair to face her desk again, to find Rhodey leaning against it with a bemused look on his face. "How bad?"

"How bad is what?" _How __long __has __he __been __standing__ there?_

"The wunderkind"

"Tony? Tony's fine."

"I didn't ask how Tony was, I asked how bad whatever he's done is."

"Oh. Well… He's behind where I want him to be." It's the truth at least. Between Tony and Turbo, her world is becoming hard enough to keep track of without lying to Rhodey. Who will surely eventually compare notes with Tony.

"Fantastic. A perfect excuse. Let's go out to lunch then."

Pepper glances back at the door to the executive office. "Tony's supposed to –"

"Not you, me, and Tony. You and me. You look like you need a break. Leave the catch up stuff to him."

Her relief at the offer is shamefully palpable. "I…yeah I'd like that." Getting out of the office awhile would be a relief. Anything is better than sitting waiting for Tony's damned door to open.

"Great!" Rhodey does a courtesy knock on Tony's door before Pepper can stop him (she'd hoped they could just sneak out without Tony protesting). Rhodes she can hear well as he informs Tony he's kidnapping her and Tony's not invited. Tony's words she can't hear, but he sounds…distracted. More distracted than normal.

The thought that he might be, probably, in all likelihood, is reading her letter _right__ now_ makes Pepper reach for her purse. She's standing next to the double doors that lead into the office space before Rhodey turns and closes the doors behind him.

"What's up with him?" Rhodey asks as he joins her. "I don't think he heard me at all. I didn't even get his 'Danger, trespassers will be prosecuted' look."

"He's…working. So where do you want to go?" Pepper nudges him out the door, and does her best to change the subject. "I'm buying."

"Depends. What are you in the mood for?"

* * *

They end up at Electric Karma, one of Pepper's favorite Indian restaurants. It's closer to her condo than it is to the office, but her day is shot anyway and Rhodes says he doesn't mind the commute. They get a small table for two in the bar area. Before their server can walk away after leaving their menus, Pepper puts in an order for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. It gets Rhodey's attention – sharpens Rhodey's attention – but Pepper doesn't care.

One glass of wine is not going to hurt anything. Especially if she ignores the thought that it was a bottle of beer (followed by two others) that ostensibly got her into this situation.

"So…" Rhodey serves them both from the appetizer platter, a type of spicy pancake with a coconut dip. "What's up with you and Tony?"

"I don't know what you mean." Pepper's reply is instantaneous, and absolutely the wrong thing to say. Not only had her companion's tone been that of a man on a fishing expedition, but if nothing had changed between her and Tony then there wouldn't have been a need to define what was between them. Because until recently, nothing _had_ changed. The correct answer was "Same old," or "The usual," or the more ambiguous "What do you think?"

It's the look. Pepper isn't used to being the cynosure of that silent, slightly brooding look. Makes her feel like a cadet. Or Tony. When he's misbehaving.

"You're flustered." Rhodes is still using that bland tone.

She makes a face at him. "I was late this morning. To _work_." The qualifier shouldn't be necessary, but Pepper can't tell what he's thinking and doesn't want him making assumptions.

"That explains you. Doesn't explain Tony."

Pepper leans back into her chair and examines Rhodes. After a few seconds of study she sighs and deflates a bit. "He told you." Of course Tony had blabbed to Rhodey about their most recent "near kiss." Tony avoids personal drama at all costs, and Rhodey's too pragmatic to put up with any personal drama of his own, but put the two of them together in the same room and they become a pair of chatty, 70 year old yentas.

"Yeah but don't feel too bad about it, Pepper. I essentially dragged the story out of him."

She nods at that. Not sure what to say at the moment. She settles on sighing deeply, and reaching up to rub before her eyes for a moment with thumb and pointer finger.

"It's just…" She doesn't even know what to say. "I don't know where I stand with him," Pepper finally confesses, because that is the root of the problem. Tony's whole "gentleman" act would be understandable if he would at least make a move on her (or let her act on the moves she'd tried to put on him). It's clear that he wants something from her – that little talk in his shop about patience, and relationships, and what constituted rejection confirmed that. But neither of them has put anything into words – or at least neither of them had until she wrote that letter he should be done reading by now. (But her phone hasn't rung, so maybe he hasn't?)

"He's not shy about what he wants." Pepper pins Rhodey with a hard look. "It says something, doesn't it? That what he wants is this nebulous, nameless, _thing_ that is real enough to reduce us both to monosyllables but..."

She shakes her head and takes a deep drink from her wineglass.

Rhodes lips quirk a little. "I suppose that depends on the situation he's found himself in, Pepper. Your assumption he isn't ever shy isn't entirely accurate." He must read Pepper's face accurately – the words 'like hell' are at the forefront of her mind – because he makes a face. "Shy may not be the right word…perhaps 'out of his depth'

He sighs, clearly struggling to put what's in his head into comprehensible sentences. "Pepper...what – if anything – has he ever told you about his relationship with his parents? And I'm not talking about stuff that would go into corporate sound bites. I'm talking about real, one on one, personal kind of things."

"I know he loved them," Pepper manages, wondering where exactly this was going.

"Of course he did. What kid doesn't – well unless they're being whaled on or something…which fortunately he _wasn__'__t_. He may have been roughed up a bit at boarding school, but his folks…" He shrugs his shoulders, both uncomfortable and helpless. "To quote Tony in vino veritas, here... 'They were busy, though Mom liked showing me off at parties and Dad loved it when we did math together.'" He shrugs almost helplessly. "Can a parent buy their kid literally everything and still be guilty of neglect?"

Pepper just looks at him, silent.

"Do you know why we ended up dorm mates at MIT?"

She shakes his head.

"Best as I could tell, the RA was worried he was lonely. This was before he really took off on the booze and women mind you, back when he was...fifteen or sixteen. Granted he'd already started his career as a smart ass…probably a self-defensive habit. Didn't want to be labeled a geek. But seriously how does any kid learn to be a kid when he's got no friends in boarding school because intellectually at least he thinks _aeons_ ahead of all the other people around him? Especially if mom and dad – or tutors or whoever else he may have been shoved off on when he wasn't building – didn't give two fucks about helping him grow up emotionally?

"Tony knows machines, Pepper. It's been his whole life his whole life. People...healthy relationships? He's got maybe half a clue. So yes…shy…or maybe flying blind is a better way to put it."

Pepper fiddles with a piece of bread, shredding it rather than eating it, but then her brain is too busy consuming Rhodey's...insight. On some level she's always know that Tony doesn't relate to people well, and that there's numerous reasons for it. Some being personal, some being monetary, some being intellectual... She could make a longer list if she cared to. But she's also always felt as if _she_ had a pretty good understanding of Tony. That after all these years that he'd run out of any major surprises.

This whole Iron Man thing had been a surprise, but not a _surprise_ surprise, at least not after she'd gotten something resembling the truth out of him.

What she says to Rhodey is, "I'm not made of glass." And it probably makes no sense to him, but it does to her. Because it feels like Tony's treating her with kid gloves after a decade of allowing her to play catch-up, and it's giving her a headache.

The Tony she's been expecting is the Tony who asks her dance and then doesn't give her a chance to turn him down. Because having time to think is giving them _both_ headaches.

"You're not the only one off kilter here, Pepper. That's all that I'm saying."

"I know that." The words come off more snapish than she means for them to, but she's getting the distinct feeling the one Rhodes is feeling more pity for right now is...Tony?

Though maybe that's actually not such a bad thing, a part of her whispers. After all, with her…compromised…by all of this maybe its good someone other than just her is looking out for his interests in this whole, messy…thing.

"Damn it," she mutters. It would have been so much easier if he'd just been a little less...scalded cat. If she'd actually managed to kiss him. But damn it that probably just the estrogen talking again.

She'd think about killing this bottle of wine by herself over lunch, then going home, because how many times has Tony gotten drunk and blown off whatever he was supposed to be doing? But there's that letter, and if she's drunk, nothing is going to happen. Tony's proved that once.

Hell, maybe she'll go home and finally give Turbo that robot tentacle sex he's been talking about.

Her life is _so_ messed up.

"Tony thought I wrote a story about him," she mumbles, because this at least shifts the conversation back to being about how weird Tony is.

Rhodes tilts his head in reply, eyebrow raised in silent question.

She nods. "I pray to _God_ he never wises up to the existence of rpf Tony Stark fanfiction."

"Wow. Those are some pretty technical terms you're tossing out."

Pepper shakes her head. "Did you know that the week after I started working for Tony, PR sent me a list of websites to check for slanderous material? As if he was going to care? Then they sent me another one after the 'I am Iron Man' announcement. In other words, I know far too much about how John Q. Public sees Tony Stark."

Rhodes snorts. "At least the fan produced media about him and Iron Man is more...gentle than the press's."

"I somehow doubt Tony would agree."

Rhodey shrugs. "I didn't hear any whining. He liked the stuff on a site named starknekkid that I sent him."

"You sent him a link to a fan site." Pepper doesn't make it a question. She's too busy panicking. Fandom is a small place. A small, interconnected place.

"Yeah. I send him funny or embarrassing shit I find about him occasionally. Call it personal revenge for all the crap he gives _me_."

Pepper refills her wine glass, because drunk is starting to look like a nicer and nicer state to exist in. Because fandom is a small place, and she spends her night talking to a "T" who claims to have a somewhat significant other named "V". And who knows that Pepper's first name is actually Virginia and that she was a cheerleader in high school.

And she's insane.

And Tony had assumed she wrote stories about them.

And she is _insane_.

Pepper takes a deep breath. "How has fighting fire with fire worked for you so far?"

* * *

**A/N:** so…not dead. To be specific, neither I, no 4persephone, or this story is dead. I know that the break between chapters has been inexcusable here, but that's life, I suppose. Just know that we're dedicated to getting this story finished.

Fun facts: 1) Entek is a real place. It's actually down the road from where I live, and it's where my brother-in-law works. They make components for batteries, which seems to line up with the thought that arc reactors are mini batteries. 2) I'm totally evil and you haven't seen the letter from Pepper to Tony yet, but you will. It's written, along with part of the next chapter. So yay? 3) Thanks so much to everyone who has kept reviewing and sending story alerts for this fic, because that was one of my motivating factors for working on this last night with 4persephone. Ya'll guilted me into it. It will not be another year before you see an update here.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony spent a long time just staring at the manila folder lying on his desk. Too long. Or at least, if there had been anyone observing him or waiting for him to be somewhere or to do something, then it would have been too long. But his taskmaster is gone…after conveniently transferring her case of nerves to him.

When he'd first found the file last night, he'd been desperate to read it. Had actually gotten through the first two paragraphs before he'd slammed the file shut and practically run from the garage.

He'd actually driven from the garage, taking his bike out for a ride. The speed wasn't the same as when he's in the suit, but he never flew this low anyway and there was something soothing about the repetition of the scenery whizzing by his peripheral vision. He'd come back calm enough to put the file away and tell himself that if Pepper wanted anyone to see it, he – Turbo – would be the first to know.

He hadn't expected this, hadn't expected honesty in return from Pepper. At least not this soon. If he'd expected anything, it'd been that Turbo and Fanny would talk this out for a couple of chats before Pepper made a move.

The folder in front of him is a hell of a move.

If the rest of the letter is anything like those two paragraphs he'd read, then Fanny's about to unload on his ass, and Tony's not sure he's ready.

But then that's only fair, isn't it? Pepper hadn't been anything like ready yesterday afternoon when he'd finally confronted her in his garage. Those big blue eyes of hers had been filled with an expression that "deer in the headlights" didn't even begin to cover. He was pretty sure it was some sort of instinctive expression coded into the female genome, passed down from the days when cavemen went around clubbing mates.

It'd actually almost made him feel guilty.

But everything he'd said had _needed_ to be said – at least from his end of things. His cards were now laid out on the table. They needed the air cleared between them, both needed an understanding of stakes now before them.

With a deep breath, Tony steels himself and opens the folder.

* * *

_There'd been glass fragments in my hairbrush once I finally stopped long enough to brush my hair out. From tempered safety glass yes, but reduced to rubble nonetheless. Those little pebbles felt as if they MEANT something. As if they were a metaphor for us._

_Those last few, desperate days hadn't left either of us room for introspection. I hadn't understood at the time what exactly you were facing; all I could see, could understand, was that you were hurtling towards some sort of collision and that the outcome was undecided. And it scared me._

_Have you ever considered the events of that night from my perspective? Not just fear, but guilt that I lied so badly that I put you in further danger? Regret that I wasn't persuasive enough to make SHIELD act more quickly on the evidence I had._

_There is still a foolish part of me that insists that if I had only…scheduled something, or…or…I don't know. But that there was something I had failed to do that led to…_

_But we made it. We made it. And by the time we were getting ready for that press conference I hadn't slept in over thirty hours. Which was okay because exhaustion lent the last twenty-four hours a dreamy haze that kept reality containable. As long as I could focus on one rudimentary task after another – whether that was adhering heat packs to your shoulders and back, making you picture perfect for the camera, or seeing off Agent Coulson – those small, mindless steps were guided by habit, requiring no thought and no contemplation._

_We met that collision, and we lived through it, but we were both still in shock. No matter how smooth you managed to be or how efficiently I managed you, we had no idea what the hell was going on around us. At least I didn't. Maybe you felt better to have the confrontation done with, but I was still racing to catch up. There were so MANY things I had to leave by the wayside in order to go on._

_I don't know if your brain really works so differently than mine, or if you needed to focus on your own inane details to keep from going insane, but from the moment Agent Coulson left us alone, you…you just managed to say everything in EXACTLY the wrong way. Right off the bat._

_Your comment that not even you believed you were Iron Man, meant yeah you did, which you couldn't be, because that would mean that all of this was permanent, that you – that I – will have to do all of this AGAIN. Rinse and repeat ad infinitum until there really is nothing to us but the next mission and our own robotic movements. And I hadn't slept well in days, and wasn't ready to face you being Iron Man. Because I have always been by definition the woman who does anything and everything you require. And if you were Iron Man, a man I didn't know, that meant I wasn't me any longer. If you WERE Iron Man that meant I was no longer ME._

_I made you presentable, hands smoothing out wrinkles in your jacket, able to feel the regular shapes of the adhesive warming pads beneath. There'd been no pain in your voice, but it'd been there only hours before, which I knew because hours before I was the one healing you, saving you, replacing that goddamn reactor for you again after I swore I wouldn't._

_I was the one enabling you when all common sense said not to and all my fears said I couldn't start cleaning up your messes in this arena because you'd take that as a sign of my blessing, and then you'd start getting ideas…_

_You've never needed my help getting ideas._

_If you've never thought about that endless day from my perspective, then you've never thought about how I could have interpreted your words. Your tone of voice certainly didn't help, the one that comes just fast enough to be understood but too quickly to be interrupted. The one that tries to sell me on something against my best judgment._

_Believe me, Tony Stark in truly charming mode was the LAST thing I need._

_Before I go any further, I need to confess. Part of me knew what you meant. I could see your face becoming softer as you talked about that night at the benefit. I could see that the memory brought you happiness. And I could see your absolute belief that you were offering me something…priceless._

_And my response was to plunge the knife in and pull it out as quickly as possible, hoping to cause the least amount of pain. I tried to shut you down the fastest way I knew how, and it wasn't fast enough. I could hear the pain in your grunted affirmation, could see how I just devastated all the castles beginning to be spun by your fantasies._

_Just like that. Finished. Fire snuffed before it ever really registered heat._

_And you skulked off to the podium, and you outted yourself. Blew things even more to near microscopic smithereens._

_I went home after that…not to repay you for leaving me at the benefit, not because I couldn't deal with your chaos a second longer, but because if I didn't, I was going to either explode or shatter and from what you offered me, and I didn't see that there would be anyone there to put me back together. You'd already imploded our lives enough. I saw no need to help._

_If you're still reading, this is where I explain myself. Yes, part of me knew what you were offering to me. But the bigger, more controlling, more cautious part of me – the part of me that waited for three months against all hope for you to return, and who handled one seeming catastrophe after another once you did – had a different interpretation of your offer._

_I believed that the offer you made me was likely genuine and that at the time it was the best you had to give. That doesn't change the fact that is was far, far too little for me to accept._

_I looked at you and I saw this man, who admittedly was far evolved past the man who used to occupy your skin, but who had still not grown enough to handle more than he already had on his plate. It was in the offer. "If I had a girlfriend…" she would do this, and this, and this, and she would stay at home and worry (do you understand the pain that entails?) while I'm off being a superhero. Nowhere was there any mention of reciprocity._

_Do you understand now why bringing up the incident at benefit immediately afterwards – a night where you romanced me and then left me without a word as if my worry is trivial – was a mistake? I almost think that if you had instead referenced your return home and our arrival at Edwards, I might have relented – at least a little. That day I WAS proud of you, SO proud…despite the worry, and so damn glad to see you back._

_I think on that day – for a couple of seconds of least – I was more than just the cookie cutter damsel in distress girlfriend waiting back at home for you. Can you see the difference? Can you grasp how the first leaves me passive – and when in your life have I been passive? – while the second at least brings me into the story?_

_Can you see how being made into a Noun – the 'girlfriend' – instead of me was outright insulting? Especially after everything we'd just been through._

_Honestly, you would have grown bored with the girlfriend Pepper Potts deluxe edition bimbette inside of a month. Because she has no depths. Her sole purpose is to worry when you're away and preen when you're here. I've seen you with those girls, and they don't even last the night anymore, much less the month._

_Are you still reading?_

_Because here is where I return your honesty in what I want, for myself, and for…us._

_Did you hear how I deflected your offer without actually turning you down? Because I WAS proud, and I WAS conflicted, and I thought that if I lowered my defenses I could be crazy about you._

_But I deserved more than you were offering at the time. And so did you. We both deserved something more than the caricature you had described to me that afternoon._

_I never wanted some tropist hero stereotype. I'd be dating you, the whole three-dimensional, multilayered, complicated enchilada._

_And that man has grown. Grown into a man I am still proud of, and yes, still conflicted over. But I think you see me as more now than the cookie cutter Pepper Potts facsimile who may have had a lot of features, but wasn't real._

_Which is for the best, because she couldn't ever really love you._

_And I think that the Pepper who's grown up at your side since then is ready to take that risk…because I do. Love you, that is._

* * *

He…really doesn't know how he feels at the moment. Elated. Bummed. Numb. Maybe a little overwhelmed.

Seriously, it might be easier if his damn gut would just pick and stick with one. There's just…_so_ much. In the letter. To digest.

He'd wanted honesty about their circumstances…about Pepper's reactions. And Fanny…no, they were _one_ person. So Fanny/Pepper/Virginia/Whoever the hell she was today…had finally given it to him.

Full bore. No holds barred.

There is nothing here that he can misunderstand, or claim was too vague. Pepper has come straight out and said, "Here is what I expect." Yet he doesn't understand, and it's frustrating. But then that's typical. He's come to realize lately that short of physics and most sub-schools of engineering, Tony Stark has never really understood much of anything.

He understands now what Pepper expects in a relationship, and that she sees a relationship as being achievable between them. But she hasn't said _when_. Her letter makes it sound as if she doesn't think he's ready. Her behavior says she's more than.

_Fanny_ says she wishes he'd just jump her already.

Okay, maybe Fanny hadn't actually said that, but the implication had been there.

Of course that implication might have been…bent…a little, by the fact she hadn't known he was him.

'Do I trust her actions over her words, or her words over her actions?' Fanny or Pepper? Except in the end it was only one person.

He doesn't know, has _no__clue,_ how to proceed forward from this.

If Pepper were anyone else, he'd let charm and sex soften her up before implementing some scheme to get her to date him without her realizing they were dating.

But in light of this letter that just seems…skeezy. It'd make him less than the kind of man she needed him to be.

Not that he isn't already living down to the role. He is pursuer and fake prey, providing her a safe place to hide from him. He'd excused it before as curiosity, as a way to get honesty. But now?

Tony stares down at the innocuous manila folder that hides the document that's just blown his mind. Who'd've thought Pepper had this in her?

He should have. Known, that is. How long has he been reading her letters to him, even if she had chosen to write them anonymously and send them in a third person kind of way?

Pepper hadn't posted this online. This is the same, gut-wrenchingly honest, deep secret self, emotionally fraught stuff that Fanny writes. Except this one is to him. Her audience hadn't blunted her honesty.

He groans and leans back in his chair.

If only that helped. It only made it appear that Pepper was as clueless as he was. He'd thought, until now, that solving this was a matter of getting the right information from Pepper/Fanny. Of encouraging her to write without fear until she'd reached the point in her narrative where she revealed the final secret. The chapter where she told him what to do to make him and her into a 'they.' Only apparently, she doesn't know that road any better than he does.

She loves him. She said it out loud. (Well okay out-loud on paper.) She said it out loud and she left it for him.

It's vulnerability…and if he knows anything at all now, it's that it needs to be equal for equal. Not because that's the answer so much as the first paver on the road to the answer for both of them. If he can't do anything else, for _once_ he can give her an equal truth for a truth.

He opens a Word document. Stares at it a moment. Tries to decide where to even begin.

Settles on one sentence, the mother of all one liners he's ever used.

"I know this fixes nothing, but for the record, I love you too."

* * *

She is drunk. No, not drunk. But too incapacitated to return to the office? Yes, to Rhodey's amusement. He'd dropped her off at home after calling Tony to inform him that his personal assistant needed some personal time. And Tony had not protested.

Has Tony read her letter? Is Tony indeed Turbo? Does she care if he is? Does she _want_ him to be? The thoughts circle through her head in the way she wants to pace her apartment, but she'd had too much to drink and pacing makes her dizzy.

She's about seventy percent sure she's having an active nervous breakdown.

Well okay, that estimation might be slightly hysterical. Fifty percent was probably more accurate – after all, she has never, in her entire career…no, in her entire _life_, ever had so much to drink over lunch that she couldn't go back to work afterwards. But then again, she has never in her entire life made such a potential fool of herself either.

Lunch had been good. The wine had been better. Maybe not up to snuff when compared to the stuff in Tony's wine cellar, but really, what is? And now? It provides the added benefit of leaving everything around her just the slightest bit hazy.

Which is a good thing, which is a giant fucking relief. Because what she needs to do is take an objective, critical survey of her situation. Something that's about as desired as a root canal right. Honestly, she was seeing some serious merits to a quick and admittedly gory death via some kind of old fashioned Harikari.

At least if she were dead she could finally. Stop. Thinking.

About the letter she'd written to Tony.

About his as of yet undetermined response to it.

About her lunch date with Rhodes that had started out embarrassing and then become enlightening and then sort of just exploded her entire fucking _life_ like an Indian Flavored variant on Nagasaki.

Once again she had forgotten the first, the most basic principle in dealing with the chaos principle that was Tony Stark: Never, ever, ever, _ever_ assume that he wouldn't do, or know about, _anything_.

It's far too late to go back. If Tony is Turbo, if Turbo is Tony, then they both (Turbo/Tony, Tony/Pepper) know too much to go back. Somehow, in the midst of leaving out the big details of her life, she'd let all the little ones spill only to discover that the little details weren't so little. Like the moon, information was inconsequential without context. But Tony _is_ context. Tony is the horizon that makes the moon ten times bigger than the expanse of the empty sky.

She has two questions she has to deal with now. The first being, does Tony (if he is Turbo) know who Fanny is? And secondly, if Tony is Turbo, how does she, Pepper, feel about that? After all, she is not the only one that has spilled her inner secrets to a (possibly) nameless, (hopefully) faceless stranger.

She may have been so very, very, foolish but Turbo (whoever he is) has reciprocated.

Of course, the hurdle to the answers to those questions is whether or not Turbo in fact Tony. Sometimes she's sure, but other times, honestly? She has no fucking clue. There's as much evidence to the idea that he isn't as there is to the fact that he may be.

Turbo is…gentle. Patient. And let's be honest, a flirt. But Turbo seems to know and for the most part _recognize_ boundaries, and he takes only as much as she's ready to give. He apologizes when he thinks he might have offended her, for fuck sake, and seems aware and concerned about her day to day mental state.

And that? That isn't Tony. At least not the one she knows.

Well, okay, maybe now more recently, but when did all that start to change anyway?

She tries to think back – to identify a clear moment. Except there isn't one, not really. There's been the personal growth since Iron Man and that damn press conference where he'd outted himself.

But as for growth between them? Nothing. After her perceived rejection he'd outright retreated…not just respected the 'no' that she'd given him but maybe, to a certain level, even pulled back. They hadn't really interacted much, as much as they saw each other almost every single day.

Maybe it's to be expected. The intensity of their connection in those mad weeks, both of them confessing that there was little in their lives to rival whatever it was that they had together, couldn't possibly be sustained. The ease between them had been shattered by the way she'd blocked his attempt to poke at the status of their relationship. It'd driven him onto more missions and into the shop in his free time.

But maybe that's where her writing had come from, she realizes. The spark had been lit when he'd backed away from her, and nature abhors a vacuum. Even he had admitted to going online for company, the same as she had.

She wants to use her remote access to Jarvis to go poking through Tony's personal files. Does he have the picture of Nicole Kidman in her strawberry blonde heyday that Fanny had jokingly used? Would she find narratives instead of haiku? Photos of a long ago auto show?

Pepper is aware that following that particular temptation would be a betrayal of just about everything there is between them. Now, at least. She has a panicky, alcohol spiked mind playing tricks on her. Her suspicions are insubstantial. If she wants to go poking through someone's files, she ought to go poking through her own archived chats to see if there is anything besides hope and horror bolstering her belief that the man she's falling in love with and the man she vents to about him are one and the same.

If he's known…if he's been _playing_ with her…she's not sure she'll _ever_ be able to forgive him.

'If this was a game Potts, it would already be over.' She's been talking to Turbo for _weeks_ and there's no way, no way at all Tony would have been as…open…as he has been. About just about everything. He didn't have the temperament to stroke somebody's ego for that long in hopes of it spurring a roll – even literary – in the hay.

Tentacle Sex aside Turbo had never seemed like a actual predator as he did a guy who was…out of his depth with a woman.

She groans aloud. "Thank you, Rhodes, for making this _still_ more complicated." Hell, she knew the colonel was right about Tony's awkwardness when it came to interacting with a woman beyond the goal of a fun night. And she had shot him down once.

She ought to be flattered that he was still willing to pursue her at all. And wouldn't it be entirely in his character to, having failed to learned how to do something the right way, to charge into doing it the wrong way? Two steps forward, one back, was still forward motion.

Granted, if he _is_ Turbo, and he's known she's Fanny all this time, and they can find a way to make _any_ of this soap opera less hideous rom-com by the end of things, she's going to make it absolutely, one hundred percent, knife to the balls type of clear that if he ever pulls this kind of crap on her again she's going to _castrate_ him.

Of course, this brings her back to the dilemma of discovering who Turbo is. And the easiest way to do that will be to meet him…which is the sort of thing she should probably set up while still under the influence of intoxicants.

Pepper glances at her clock. It'll be hours still before she can expect Turbo to be online (considering she'd taken an early lunch and gone home immediately after). Sighing, she drops down on her couch and grabs her laptop. There's those archives to go through until then. Now that she knows the impossible is possible…hell, she might notice something.

* * *

Since he's not entirely sure that seeing Pepper Potts drunk isn't some sort of portent of doom, James Rhodes figures he might as well give Tony a piece of his mind before the world ends, or a solar flare turns the planet into a pre-industrial wasteland, or whatever the current chic doomsday scenario is. So after dropping Pepper off at her apartment (and seeing her upstairs to her front door), he heads back downtown through LA traffic. He figures that Tony's probably hanging around at loose ends without Pepper around to prompt him to whatever is the next item on his schedule.

He's not disappointed. He finds Tony, sitting in his office, a distant, blank look in his eyes. Which if he thinks about it, is terrifying, because he just spent an hour keeping that look _off_ of Pepper's face.

He slams the door behind him, making Tony jump in his seat.

"Man, she was a nice girl. I really liked her. Now she's just as crazy as you." He may not be ready to give this…relationship…his blessing, but he's starting to understand that he's going to get flattened by it if he stands in the way. "Crazier maybe. But you never heard me say that."

Tony turns a single baleful eye in Rhodey's direction

"Seriously. When is the last time Pepper went to lunch and came back incapacitated? I haven't heard a woman moan over you this much since my mother found out what my roommate's last name actually was." Of course, that hadn't happened until after they'd graduated and Tony started getting a reputation. He doesn't know how many times he'd had to sit and listen to her grumble about "that _Stark_ boy."

"Give her a break, Jim. Her life's been…stressful…lately.

"Life? I don't think so. _You._ You've had her stressed." Rhodey throws himself into a chair in front of Tony's desk studying him critically. "Not that you're much better off from where I'm sitting. You look like a redneck that's just lost his dog and his pickup."

Tony groans. "And you sound like a bad country song. Just how much did Pepper have to drink, and how much did you match?"

"Bad country music and heartbreak go hand in hand." Rhodey sidesteps the issue of how much he'd had to drink. That conversation with Pepper wasn't one that _anyone_ could have without a beer in hand. The Dalai Lama himself would have ordered something dark and bitter. "I didn't come back here to hear the other side of all the bitching."

Tony gives his reply with one finger of his right hand.

"Pithy. Look, what are you going to do?"

Tony's look is one step removed from being absolutely tragic. "You're asking like I _know_. Which, I assure you, I do not. Because if I did, I would have done that instead of this. Because this is a farce."

Rhodes snorts. "You know what? I'm starting to think you should have just let her kiss you."

"She was…tipsy. That would have been taking advantage. Which I know, because you've hammered that much into my head." Tony sounds downright pissy about that.

Rhodes shakes his head, expression wry. "I know…who'd have thought it'd suck so much to say I'm proud of you."

They fall silent for a few moments before Rhodey says again, "What are you going to do?"

"I…don't know yet." Tony makes a face. "I'd prefer something that doesn't make me feel or look like a B Movie heroine. Though I'm not above standing outside her window with a boom box."

"Creeper. Look, as the person who just watched Pepper Potts get drunk over you, here's my suggestion: just do something. Doesn't matter if it's the right thing. You can apologize later if it is. But you gotta do something."

"I know. I'm just trying to figure out which route is least likely to end in death or heart attack."

"Chocolate."

Tony raises an eyebrow.

"I'm serious, Stark. Sometimes that fixes…well pretty much everything. Or at least settles the dust long enough for a better idea to appear." Now Tony just looks bewildered.

Rhodey sighs. They've gone over the basic steps of dating before. Of course, Tony'd been like, ten then. "Chocolates, flowers, double features. Any of this sounding familiar? Smooth guy moves, not get-her-into-bed moves. Otherwise known as dating." Rhodes cocks his head, "It tends to work better than making half-assed passes at her because she's cute."

"You want me to…to…" Tony can't think of an appropriate word to express his disbelief. "I think Pepper and I have moved past the dating stage." Surely they're in _much_ more trouble than that. A few daisies are not going to smooth this over.

"Yeah, listening to you bitch about it on Saturday, and her bitching about it today, I don't think you have. Seriously, when was the last time you got together outside the office? Including your house, since she works there."

"Uhmmm." Never pretty much. There'd been the Fireman's fundraiser, but then, Pepper probably considered that a work event. Tony fights the urge to shoot himself in the head as Rhodes leans back in his chair, smiling smugly. But the thing about Pepper is that she never turns work off. And he doesn't know how to make her.

"Look, it doesn't take a genius to figure this one out, Tony. It's not as if you don't have decades of convention to fall back on if all else fails. Since you're a beginner though, I'd start with just getting her out of the office and onto neutral ground." Rhodes chews his lip a moment, trying to think how Tony could manage to screw up instructions even that simple. "Though not somewhere overly public…at least for now." He shrugs, "You know…find a big group setting where you can put on a hat and disappear into the crowd like you and I used to back in the day."

"And what happens when Pepper figures out I don't have a fucking clue about what I'm doing? Which should happen approximately 10 seconds after we exhaust the topic of what nice weather we're having."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Rhodey grins. "I already told her you're more idiot and less savant when it comes to traditional dating techniques. I'm fairly certain with a little encouragement she can be persuaded to take the lead." Rhode's eyes actually twinkle as he leans forward a little. "New sentence for you, Stark: What would _you_ like to do today?"

Tony finds he's actually strangely relieved. After all, if Pepper's expectations are already low… "How drunk was she?" If his assistant has bailed on him, Tony sees no reason to stick around for the rest of the day. He has far better things to do.

"Considering she kept muttering about chat rooms and web comics, pretty damn drunk."

Tony chuckles and makes sure that the file folder with Pepper's letter in it is out of sight. He's going to take that sucker home and _frame_ it. But that doesn't mean he wants anyone else to see it.

"You know…I think I'm calling it a day. I've got plenty in the shop to keep me busy this afternoon and tonight."


End file.
